


A Couple Weeks Later

by JStevens



Category: Stand Still Stay Silent
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-28
Updated: 2016-08-26
Packaged: 2018-07-18 20:19:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 79,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7329364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JStevens/pseuds/JStevens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happened between pages 537 and 538? That question, and waiting for new pages, led to this series of scenes imagining how Lalli came to begin learning Swedish, and how he and Emil got over the infamous Soup Incident--and several other incidents of their own making--before arriving at Odense. What started as something more like ficlet seems to be growing into an actual story of sorts. Who knew!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lesson 1

**Author's Note:**

> Begins and runs parallel to Page 511 onward--though some timing is a bit fiddly, since much was written from memory!

**Lesson 1**

The first time he had lost his Luonto, Lalli had been just seven. The yawning chasm that had opened within him had left him certain that he was dying, even though his grandmother had insisted that he was not and would not. Lalli hadn't believed her. He'd been quite convinced that she just didn't want to depress him with the news of his impending doom. Even though it would have been most unlike his grandmother to protect his feelings like that.

He hadn’t realized how much of his own warmth came from his Luonto until it was gone—and it seemed impossible go on living without it. His body had become a cold lump of clay: unresponsive and foreign. Just as it was again now. He shouldn’t have used so much magic to clear that building. As he drifted between dream space and oblivion, feeling that terrible ache once again, he could admit to himself that he shouldn’t have done it. But at the time it had seemed that the most obvious thing in the world to do. He’d been running through the snowy city all the night and half the day, and the entire crew was depending on him to find a safe site. And more than that, _Tuuri_ had said that he couldn’t do his job. In front of the _foreigners_. It had been beyond bearing.

  

When Lalli's Luonto finally returned to him, he felt a warm spark take up residence in his chest. The spurt of heat spread through him, moving out from his center and crawling down his limbs till it reached all the way to his toes. And he was whole again.

He was pulled back from oblivion by someone was calling his name. When his eyes popped open, it was the Swede leaning over him, just inches from his face. He was so close that his golden-blond hair nearly brushed against Lalli’s cheeks. More shockingly, though, he was speaking real words for once and not that gibberish that he normally spouted.

Then the Swede dragged him up and out into the group, where everyone was ready to applaud his tireless work finding a safe camping site. The warmth of his Luonto had warmed him from within, but this warmth wrapped around him like a hot blanket that had been left beside the hearth to warm. They realized how much he had done for them. They all saw how much they depended on his skill as a scout and a mage. He felt as light as a spring breeze, wafting past his cousin and her nattering. He didn’t need to wait anymore on her whims to understand what was going on around himself. He had his own place now.

And then he woke. And the great, aching emptiness that swamped over him made him feel as if he’d lost half his soul all over again.


	2. Lesson 2

**Lesson 2**

When Lalli had pulled on his uniform jacket and poked his head out the door, not a single person had bothered to notice. Not even his cousin had bothered to greet him or say a word about why they were now in some moldering forest when they had been in the heart of the city the last time he’d been conscious. Even now, leaning against a tree meters from the rest of them, the snub still stung.

These were the people he had exhausted his greatest reserves for. He had pushed himself to the edge of his endurance and in return they had left him on the cold floor while they gallivanted about speaking that stupid nonsense of theirs and cooing over the stupid little cat. He glared in their direction and realized that the Swede was coming toward him.

Watching him approach from narrowed eyes, Lalli could at least grudgingly respect that Emil had thought to bring food. But it was too little, too late. It wasn’t like he wanted to eat the slop anyway. As soon as the Swede came to a stop in front of him, the dolt began running his mouth with a blithe smile. In general, Lalli did all right with Emil. Better than he did with any of the other foreigners, in fact. But this morning, every one of the incomprehensible words that he spoke was like another shake of salt into an open wound.

Lalli’s teeth grit harder and harder as he listened to the Swedish flow past him, slipping through his mind as though it were a live eel: wriggling away before he could grasp any meaning from the syllables. And still the Swede kept talking and _talking_ at him, as if he expected him to be able to understand. As if they were having a conversation. As if they were friends. How could they be friends when they couldn’t even say two words to each other? How had he gotten dragged along on this crazy idea of Tuuri’s?

It felt exactly like when they were children in Saimaa. Tuuri would always lead them off into the woods on an “adventure,” and he would go traipsing after her to make sure they didn’t get caught by their grandmother. And every time that they did get caught—and they always did—his punishment had always been worse than hers. He was the one who was supposed to become a mage. He was the only one left to carry on for his parents. He couldn’t afford to make mistakes.

And he knew, even if no one else had noticed, that he’d made a mistake in that building. He’d exhausted himself and left his crew without a mage or a scout to keep them safe. And still the happy Swede was talking. Lalli felt a terrible pressure building up inside of him, like the steam roiling inside a kettle just before it began screaming.

" _Du gjorde oss lite oroliga,"_ Emil went on cheerily, not noticing a thing. " _Åtminstone mig_. _Din kusin såg inte särskilt orolig ut_. "

And then it was too much. Lalli's hand flew out and he slapped away the steaming bowl.

The scalding liquid splattered all over Emil, effectively silencing him, but Lalli’s frustration was too much for him to even take a moment of mean-spirited pleasure out of the sight of that gaping mouth. The pressure was gone, but it had been replaced with a sick feeling deep in his stomach. _Wrong again. You did the wrong thing again._ And Lalli slipped away into the woods, leaving the flabbergasted Swede behind him without a word.

 

 

Once the shock receded, Emil’s temper flared up as hot as the soup that was soaking through his jacket. _What the hell was that for?_ It was like having your family cat suddenly whirl on you to rake out your eyes. Even when Emil had nearly blown Lalli up by accident, all the Finn had done was glare at him. So why were there now warm rivulets of soup dripping down his neck and into his shirt? Weren’t they supposed to be friends?

Emil wasn’t actually all that sure if they were friends, since he’d never really had a friend before. Before his family’s “troubles,” as they had dubbed their insolvency, his parents had kept him from playing with any of the common children in the neighborhood. When he hadn’t been sat in front of a desk with his private tutors, he’d only been allowed to play within the fenced garden surrounding the house.

Then he’d gone to that wretched public school, and the other buffoons studying there had been no better than their idiot “teachers.” None of them had appreciated his gifts, and few of his fellow cleansers had either. But this trip had been his chance to start fresh. He’d had it all planned out: he would make a flawless impression, prove to the world that the Västerströms were not to be discounted yet, and go down in history as one of the brave heroes who had first ventured into the Silent World. And make a small fortune along the way, ideally.

Making real friends for the first time had been an unexpected side of the trip. Other than the constant terror that came from facing real, live trolls, signing up for this expedition seemed to be shaping up to be one of his better decisions in life. Sigrun called him her “right-hand warrior” and treated him like an equal--or as much of an equal as he wanted to be treated like. He was still fine with her taking point when they were creeping through a possible troll’s nest. Tuuri was easy enough to impress, too. She may have been an Academic, but she was from Finland of all places. She was practically a savage—she’d never even ridden on a train before she came to the civilized nation of Sweden.

Mikkel... Well, Mikkel might mock him at times, but Mikkel mocked everyone as far as Emil could tell. It was hard to tell anything for certain when trying to understand the mumbling that was the Danish language. And since day one, Emil had been appointed as Lalli’s keeper and de facto best friend. Maybe it was a role that he had mostly given himself, but he had thought they had an unspoken understanding. Lalli had had no one else to talk to, aside from his cousin. And they were supposed to be partners, exploring wild new worlds together as an unstoppable duo. The scout and the cleanser, forging new paths through the old world.

Emil had fretted over Lalli for hours as the scout lay unconscious in the tank, and the ungrateful little Finn had thrown his friendly overture back in his face. Quite literally.

 _Ridiculous_ , he thought as he stalked back toward the camp. _Friends? What a ridiculous idea._

 

 

Lalli had been dragged back into the tank by his cousin. Tuuri said it was time for work again, and Lalli had no reason to complain. Work meant getting away from the crowd of foreigners and their gibberish. Work was the only thing that Lalli felt like he understood anymore, since he had been plucked out of the predictable routine of his life in Keuruu.

The two of them were pouring over the ancient maps that the government had allowed their expedition access to, but Lalli was mostly tuning Tuuri’s words out. Once he had seen the destination, he had switched her voice off in his head and given all his attention to the paper spread out before him. His eyes flitted across the unfolded map, noting the paths and intersections of long forgotten roads. Until, that is, the Swede came thumping into the tank and set himself up to lean against the wall behind them.

Lalli could feel his shoulders tensing up, but he didn’t turn around. His eyes stayed on the squiggly lines of the map. He needed to memorize the new lands, not care about whether he had been wrong to throw the Swede’s offering back in his face. Why think about it? He already knew it had been wrong. He’d been wrong again. He couldn’t afford to be wrong, but he almost never knew what was right when it came to other people.

He closed his eyes, letting the map take form on the back of his eyelids. There was the road they were currently on. There was another decently sized road to the east, but the coast had been well built-up once. He would have do a proper search of any former city before he could lead the tank into it. Heading away from the coast would be easier, but the roads would likely be in worse condition. He mentally pinned the locations where there had been cities marked on the map and plotted a path through the former farmland. Farmland was good. Sparsely populated, which meant less chance of trolls. Lightly treed if he was lucky, so the tank could easily find enough space to maneuver. That was the route he would take.

When he had to walk past Emil, he snatched a look up to check the other boy’s expression. The Swede was giving him a stony look that seemed to demand something from him, but Lalli didn’t know what. He didn’t understand people like these foreigners, and all the quickly changing emotions they constantly showed on their faces. Didn’t anyone other than scouts know how to contain their emotions?

Reeking of fear or adrenaline deep in the woods was like blowing a hunting horn to tell beasts where you were. If you were going to survive and do your job, you had remain logical. Feelings would only lead to trouble. That was what he’d always been taught. Feelings led to sloppiness. To greediness. To resentment. They led down the path of the kade, the turned mage. His grandmother had made sure he knew that.

 _Yes,_ Lalli thought to himself, _feelings lead to mistakes._ And so, he decided, would the unnecessary complication of trying to understand these people. They didn’t need him to understand them. They didn’t need him to be their friend. They needed him to be their scout. Tugging his hood up over his face, Lalli hurried by to drop onto the stool in front of the talking machine where Onni was calling for him.

Onni’s familiar voice poured around him, lecturing him in his usual precise tone about what he should do to keep safe from the malevolent spirits that apparently filled the Silent World. But still the Swede stood behind Lalli, his eyes glaring into his back. He was talking with Tuuri in Swedish and Tuuri was talking back and for the fleetest of moments Lalli hated his cousin. Even though he had just finished convincing himself that he should keep his distance from these people, and even though Tuuri was part sister and part mother to him—for a moment, Lalli wished she were on the other side of the world.

But the feeling would pass. It always did. She was also the only thing he and Onni had. Without her, they both would have drifted apart in the solitary, twilight world of the scouts and ended up as little more than strangers. And what would his grandmother have had to say about that end for the infamous Hotakainen family?

 

 

Emil stared dimly out the dusty front windshield of the tank. His eyes were fixed on the path ahead, where every so often he would catch a glimpse of white as Lalli would go darting across the path far ahead in his sweeps. He was still officially angry at Lalli, but he felt a dull stab of envy as he sat sandwiched between Sigrun, who had fallen asleep with her mouth hanging open after yet another one of her troll-killing tales, and the probably flea-infested Icelandic fool. That one was nodding along to Tuuri and Mikkel’s conversation with an ignorant grin on his face. The conversation was being held in Icelandic, of course, and Emil hated it.

A sudden explosion of laughter surrounded him as something apparently _hilarious_ was said by Mikkel, the mumbling Danish bastard. _I could have learned Icelandic if I wanted to_ , he grumbled silently to himself. In truth, he had been forced to memorize list after list of Icelandic vocabulary in the terrible public school he’d been shunted into after his family fell on hard times. But reading the words on a piece of paper and picking them out of the stream of nonsense that was being spoken all around him were two entirely different things.

 _And this is what Lalli goes through every day,_ he thought in a moment of acute sympathy. Such revelations didn’t come often to Emil, who more often felt like the other people around him were just frustrating bit players in the drama of his life. But when such a moment of awareness did hit him, it was the like the sky had cracked open and blinding sunshine was pouring in through heavy clouds. _Every hour of every day, surrounded by this kind of noise. Watching everyone laugh and argue and tell stories, without the tiniest clue what any of it means._

Emil knew that the scout only spoke Finnish, but he hadn’t given the fact much thought beyond what it meant for himself. He’d lamented over the difficulty he had trying to get Lalli to answer a question. He’d been frustrated when Lalli wandered away in the middle of Emil trying to tell him something. He hadn’t really thought about what it would be like to be stuck on this trek with no one to talk to but Tuuri. Not that Tuuri was _terrible_. But she did think it was a fine idea to ignore a family member who had no one else to talk to within 500 kilometers until he “got over” things. _No wonder he’s out there running like the hound of Hel is after him._

Emil hoisted himself up from the bench seat and lurched across the cockpit toward the door. “I’m going to walk alongside the tank awhile,” he said to anyone who was listening. Not that anyone seemed to be. With a wrench on the large handle, he shoved the side door open and dropped down onto the slowly moving ground. A brisk pace, interrupted by a few jogging steps from time to time, was enough to keep him alongside the tank.

An idea was blooming in his head and he let his body lumber forward on its own, needing all his brain power to formulate his plan. His own failed experience learning Icelandic, he decided, would make him the perfect tutor for Lalli. A brainy book-lover like Tuuri would never understand. She would probably put a Finnish-Swedish dictionary down in front of Lalli and be baffled when he hadn’t learned the language in a week. Emil knew better the true devilry that foreign tongues presented to _normal_ people. And he’d show them what Emil Västerström could do.


	3. Lesson 3

**Lesson 3**

Tucking a camp stool under one arm, Emil took up his dish in the other hand and marched across the field to where he could just make out the scout perched on a stump at the edge of the woods. It had been a day since the Soup Disaster, as he’d dubbed the event in his head, and Emil had a plan. Forget Tuuri and her advice about giving Lalli some space. He would handle this his own way: rushing straight forward and blowing his way through any obstacle that stood in his way.

He dropped the stool onto the ground barely five meters from Lalli, not even trying to disguise the sound. It clattered onto the hard soil. He had been watching the other boy’s back closely, so he caught the flinch. A smirk toyed at his lips as he set down his bowl on the ground so that he could unfold the stool with both hands. Then he sat himself down, bent over to snatch up his bowl, and began to dig in.

When they stopped for dinner that day, Emil crept a few meters closer. At each meal, he crept closer until he was sitting back to back with Lalli. No one had gotten coated in soup, so he considered the first part of the plan a success. Which meant that it was time for part two. Breaking the silence that was thick around them, he suddenly asked, “ _Är maten bra?_ ” He turned his head far enough to see Lalli’s face from the corner of his eyes. The scrawny boy’s eyes narrowed and Emil felt a flush of panic. Was it too soon?

He nudged the other boy with his elbow and nodded toward the bowl in his hands. ” _Bra?_ ” he asked again, shoveling a spoonful of soup into his mouth and giving a big grin around the food. Then he pulled a miserable face as though he hated the food and said, with a shake of his head, ” _Nej?_ ”

The little Finnish mage blinked a few times at him. He looked down at the food then back up at Emil. And finally, after what felt like an eternity to Emil, the scout opened his mouth and repeated flatly, “ _Nej_.”

“Ha! _Ja, det är sant!_ ” Emil’s grin threatened to split his face. He forced himself to take another bite before saying anything more, or he knew that his mouth would go running off again. He held up his plate and said clearly, “ _Mat._ ” Lalli narrowed his eyes and nodded tightly, and Emil decided not to push his luck further. He let the silence fall back around them once again, but couldn’t suppress the smile that kept tugging at the corner of his lips. He’d been right. His plan was so much better than Tuuri’s.

 

 

Lalli loped away from the camp the next morning at daybreak, feeling lighter with every step he put between himself and the tank. At last he was back among the trees, and blessedly alone. Out here he could have been anywhere. He could be back at home, if the forests around Keuruu had been this young and sparse. His steps were sure on the spongy soil as he darted forward. Birds were chittering and there was no sign of danger, but he would still sweep from east to west, then west to east, in a broad wave that would fan out before the tank and ensure that they did not run straight into a nest of trolls.

“ _Bra_ ,” he soft softly under his breath. Then again: “ _Bra_. Good. _Bra_.” He ran through all the words he now knew: “ _Ja. Nej. Bra. Mat_.” He’d been able to figure out on his own that _ja_ and _nej_ were yes and no. They sounded more or less the same in all of the languages that were constantly being spewed around him. And Lalli had no difficulty memorizing things. Honing one's memorization skills was the first thing any young scout had to learn; there was no stopping to take notes when sweeping an area for threats. Lives depended on the ability of a scout to explore for hours while remembering exactly what they had seen in exactly what part of an unfamiliar landscape. A few words of nonsense Swedish would not be his undoing.

“ _Mat_ ,” he muttered next. “Food? Soup? Slop?” There hadn’t been enough context for know for sure. His footfalls were the only sound beside his muttering, quiet as a rabbits’ padded feet. Half of him watched the ground, looking out for sticks or dry leaves that would crackle when stepped on and draw attention to his location. The other half of him--the part that did not require his eyes so much as his mind--was on alert for any spiritual warning signs. Any beast large enough to pose a threat should at least make the hairs on the back of his arms stand on end. A troll or worse could leave every inch of his skin tingling.

But the landscape was quiet. He paused a moment. He had probably gone far enough in this direction. He spun on his heel and turned back the way he had come. He would cross the road that the tank was slowly puttering along and then explore the other side. The tank should probably still be a half kilometer or more behind him, but he would loop back after a few more traverses to check that they hadn’t been held up by anything. “ _Bra_ ,” he said again, softly. Not because he cared about talking to Emil or any of the rest of them. But because he would be better at his job if he could communicate with those we was supposed to keep safe. “ _Ja. Nej. Mat._ ”


	4. Lesson 4

**Lesson 4**

Lalli came up to the tank from behind the next day when his stomach told him it was time for lunch. The big Dane was tending to the cook fire and everyone else had found seats so that they could shovel in some of the muck. Emil of course noticed him first and jumped to his feet, shaking his hair out once as he stood. The Swede bustled over with an extra dish in his hand and declared proudly, “ _Mat._ ”

Nodding shortly, Lalli took the bowl with one hand. So it probably did mean food. The Swede repeated again, “ _Mat. Din mat._ ” Lalli filed this new word away, not yet sure what it might meant. Lunch food? Have food? Your food? Inedible food? The blond was smiling at him encouragingly, probably waiting for Lalli to parrot some Swedish for him. He turned away without a sound and found a log to sit on.

He lifted a spoon of the stuff and let it dribble back into the bowl. He’d been lucky enough to find of patch of blackberries along the way that still had a few mushy berries on the thorny canes. He had stuffed his cheeks full before continuing on his patrols. Though now it seemed less lucky: only the threat of starvation provided enough motivation to choke down Mikkel’s food. But Lalli had taken the razor-sharp edge off his hunger. He didn’t think he could bear to put the melted candles or whatever it was into his mouth and swallow it down.

Something moved in his peripheral vision and then Emil was hunkering down next to him. Still with that pleased look on his face. Lalli rolled his eyes and shoved the bowl back into the Swede’s hands. “ _Nej_ ,” he said, hoping that the Swede would take the hint. “ _Nej bra_.”

Emil’s eyebrows shot up and he shot a bemused glance at the bowl now back in his hands again. “ _Du menar att det inte smakar bra? Jo, ja, ingen levande kan tro att det är riktig mat._ ” Lalli glared at him and Emil seemed to catch himself. His mouth slammed shut. Then Emil repeated the words that Lalli had said and shook his head. He said slowly, “ _Inte bra_.”

Lalli raised an eyebrow. Emil smiled as he said again, “ _Bra_.” Then he stuck his tongue out, his face crumpled into a grimace. “ _Inte bra_.”

 _Not_ , Lalli thought to himself. _Not good._ And he nodded again.

  


Emil looked at the gloop that Lalli had shoved back at him. He didn’t want to eat a second helping of it, but Mikkel would probably poison his next serving if he found out that Emil had tossed the leftovers. Luckily the Dane was going through the supplies on the other side of the tank, so Emil sidled up to the cook fire and quickly scraped the mess back into the pot. Eyeing the sludge that was reheated and added to regularly, he wondered if Mikkel wouldn’t end up poisoning them all accidentally at some point.

Dropping the bowl onto the other dirty dishes waiting for Mikkel or the Icelander’s attention, Emil popped his head into the tank just long enough to tell Sigrun, “I think I’m going to keep walking alongside the tank for a while. We could use a guard closer to the tank as we get further from decent civilization, and you’ve been up half the night on watch.”

The captain looked bemused but she waived him along. “Sure. That’s the, uh, spirit?”

He mentally patted himself on the back. It was the perfect excuse: it got him out of the tank and made him look like a serious soldier with everyone’s safety on his mind. He plucked his flamethrower from its hook and practically skipped away from the tank.

Lalli was bent in half in the grass, touching his toes as he stretched before another several hours of running. Emil stared a moment, quite sure his body couldn’t fold that way, then started toward the scout. They didn’t have that much daylight left now that fall was quickly slipping away. Each day was getting shorter, and the faster that they got further south, the better. The cold would slow some trolls, but if they were going to be wandering through the Silent World in the long dark of a northern winter without any safe settlement to retreat to, they might as well just give up and walk into a troll nest now.

The ancient pavement that the tank had been navigating for most of the day was cracked and broken, some chunks raised as much as half a foot above the others. Grass burst through the cracks, and saplings and more flora that Emil had no idea how to identify. He was a city boy, born and bred, and he was only beginning to appreciate what leaving Copenhagen behind was going to mean for him.

Cleansers might spend a fair amount of time in the wilderness, but his job had less to do with surviving in the wilderness than with burning down the wilderness and then jumping on the next train back to civilization as soon as humanly possible. Hoisting up his flamethrower on one shoulder, he stopped beside Lalli. “ _Jag kommer_ ,” he said, still keeping his sentences short and simple.

The scout’s eyebrows slammed down in annoyance. Emil swallowed nervously. He took a few steps, moving past Lalli’s frozen figure, and repeated, “ _Jag kommer_.”

Lalli danced in front of him and stopped him with a hand on his chest. Then the scout shook his head once, and strode off away to leave Emil standing in the path of the tank like a lump of clay.

Emil glanced behind himself to make sure that no one else had seen. Mikkel was now packing up the cook stove while the Icelander babbled about something surely stupid over a bucket of sudsy water, where the bowls were being returned to their usual state of almost-cleanliness. He couldn’t see inside the front window of the tank well enough to know if Sigrun were sitting there.

Hurrying after Lalli, Emil called out in a quieter but insistent voice, “ _Jag kommer._ ”

That at least got a reaction, as Lalli turned around smartly and marched back to where he was. Lifting his chin in the air, Lalli’s eyes fell shut as he pronounced with as much dignity as a ninety-pound boy could muster: “ _Nej._ ”

“ _Jag kommer_ ,” Emil repeated, stepping around him. He was jerked back by a surprisingly firm grasp on his arm. He looked down at Lalli’s white-fingered glove on his sleeve, then up at the scout’s face.

Lalli sighed, looked heavenward, then met Emil’s eyes. He held out a warning hand, then began to walk away. After a few meters, he turned to check Emil and held up the same hand. He kept repeating this until he was easily 15 meters ahead of Emil. Then he stopped and turned to say, “ _Jag kommer._ ”

Emil stared for a moment and Lalli gestured at him impatiently, beckoning him forward and repeating, “ _Jag kommer._ ” Then the light switched on: Lalli didn’t want to say, “I’m coming.” He was trying to tell Emil, “You come.” _And keep your distance_ , Emil thought wryly to himself.

“ _Jag kommer_ ,” he confirmed as he took a step forward. But then he waved Lalli toward him, inviting him to step closer. “ _Du kommer._ ” He pointed to himself and intoned, “ _Jag._ ” _I._ He pointed to the scout and said, “ _Du._ ” _You._

Lalli said nothing for a several long seconds. Pulling his cat-eared hood up over his head, he called back, “ _Du kommer_.” Then he turned and ran into the woods.


	5. Lesson 5

**Lesson 5**

It had been about two hours since they’d set out after lunch, judging by the angle of the light. _Or it would be at home._ Lalli frowned at the shadows. The further south they went, the less reliable his carefully hoarded stores of knowledge became. Around Keuruu he could have told anyone asking the time within ten minutes, any time of year, just by looking at the sun’s position in the sky. But this southern land was not like Keuruu.

 _At least many of the plants are the same_ , he thought, jiggling the sprigs of berries in his hands. He’d found lingonberries and this time he’d plucked a handful of their springy vines to carry with him. He was on his way back to the road and he muttered as he walked, “ _Jag kommer_. I’m coming. _Du kommer_. You come. _Jag_. I. _Du_. You. _Bra._ Good. _Inte bra_. Not good.” Once he reached the end of his list, he went back to the beginning to start again. He didn’t stop until he spotted the twitchy Swede up ahead.

Emil seemed no more comfortable in the woods than he had in the haunted buildings of that Danish city, Lalli decided. Emil didn’t actually seem very comfortable anywhere that Lalli had seen him, outside of that house of his relatives in Sweden. Lalli could sympathize--up to a degree. But the nervous tit might flame him if he were surprised too badly. Lalli pursed his lips and let out a short whistle. Emil’s head whipped about until he found Lalli among the trees. Then his shoulders slumped in relief.

That little gesture made Lalli want to smile, but he squashed the idea before it had the chance to breathe the fresh fall air. It was gratifying, of course, that someone was glad to see him. That someone felt safer in his presence. That was all he should need as scout. He reminded himself that he wasn’t going to become involved with these odd foreigners beyond the demands of his job. It wasn’t worth the headache. They would never understand him—no one ever really had, except perhaps Onni--and Lalli would just end up misinterpreting them like he always did with other people.

Then Emil grinned at him, his bright blue eyes crinkling at the corners as he waved him over. Lalli stopped, not taking another step closer. That wasn’t the smile of a cleanser who was simply relieved his scout was still alive. No, he’d seen smiles like this one back home, though never directed at him. It was the glowing smile he’d seen on the faces of the civilians when one of their friends or loved ones made it back safely from a trek outside the walls of the fort.

Emil was drawing closer, and Lalli still hadn’t moved. He stepped back. But before he turned away, he tossed Emil one of the berry-heavy branches. “ _Mat_ ,” he said. Then he took off in the opposite direction, beginning his next sweep of the area south and east of the tank.

 

 

Emil twisted about to check the tank again. It was puttering along about twenty meters behind him and he didn’t think anyone in the front seat would be able to tell that he was eating. He quickly plucked every last berry from the sprig, cupping them in one hand, then let the stripped branch drop to the ground. “ _Mat,_ ” he said to himself with a stupid grin, as he tossed a few of the tart berries into his mouth. “You’re a genius, Emil Västerström.” _Maybe I missed my calling. Clearly I have a natural gift for teaching._


	6. Lesson 6

**Lesson 6**

The ground rules had been easy to establish, even without any conversation. Emil would be allowed to walk along behind Lalli, sticking to the general area of the tank. If he got too close, he would get a glare and a sharp, “ _Nej_.” Lalli would dash off into the woods, being gone anywhere from five minutes to half an hour. But sooner or later he would loop back to the tank—and Emil.

Sometimes he would indicate a slight change in direction. Rarely he would feel the need to go up to the tank itself and tell Tuuri about some obstacle. Mostly he would just slow down for a moment to pace within a couple meters of the Swede. And Emil would point out something new to name or try to act out some new word.

Lalli collected these words and snippets like he had collected leaves and signs of animals from his walks in the woods as a child. As if, when put together in the right order, they would tell him the story of the world. “ _Jag äter_ ,” he murmured, leaping over a rotting log. “I eat. _Jag är hungrig._ I’m hungry.” Those had been the latest two phrases. Then he launched into the day’s list again, shivering slightly in the shadow of a sudden cloud passing overhead.

 

 

Emil scanned the sparsely wooded hill in front of him. He hadn’t seen Lalli darting through the trees for what felt like a long time. Worse than that, he thought he might have heard the crackle of a rifle once but it had been there and gone in only a few seconds. He found his pace slowing and the tank began to catch up with him, growing louder until it ground to a halt just meters behind him and fell silent. He was probably lucky that Tuuri hadn’t run him over.

A door slammed and when he turned, he saw it was Sigrun who had stepped out. “What’s going on, Emil?” she asked, enough heat in her voice to tell him without words that he’d better have a good excuse for the stop.

He hesitated before answering. What if he was wrong? He’d been worried about Lalli going off on scouting trips on his own before, and everyone had told him that he was being silly. “Maybe it’s nothing,” he said. “Lalli’s just been gone a long while. He normally circles back to the tank pretty regularly.”

He studied Sigrun’s face and could tell that she wasn’t happy about this report. The expedition would have little choice but to turn back if they’d lost their only scout, and the past few days had been pretty lucrative. Lalli marked any farmhouses and country houses that were clean to loot with an arrow scrapped in the ground, and Sigrun and Mikkel had several times brought back arms full of books as he scouted ahead.

“We’ll continue moving, but slowly. If you don’t spot him in the next half hour, we’ll stop to rethink things.” This was said with some distaste. Thinking through plans wasn’t really Sigrun’s style.

Emil didn’t want to push his luck further, so he nodded and began walking forward again. The tank roared back to life and crawled forward as if it felt as uneasy as Emil himself did. Normally he didn’t think twice of walking out in front alone, because he knew that Lalli had already swept the path ahead and there wouldn’t be anything worse than maybe a rat beast to fear. But now, for the first time, he felt like he was walking blindly into danger. He scanned the landscape, his flamethrower gripped tightly in his white-knuckled hands.

They’d been inching along for nearly fifteen minutes when something came crashing through the bushes behind his right shoulder and Emil spun around, white showing all around his eyes, right in time to catch Lalli as the scout slammed into him.

Lalli hung clinging to his arm, bent over and gasping for breath. Emil stared in complete astonishment. He’d seen Lalli run for hours on end without seeming to break a sweat. How hard had he been running to be so out of breath that he couldn’t even stand up straight?

He realized that the scout was saying something between his gasp. “ _Nej_ ,” Lalli gasped, keeping Emil from taking another step. He shook his head, his ash blond hair flying about as he did. “ _Nej, Emil._ ” He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. “ _Inte bra_.”

“ _Du menar att den riktningen inte är bra?_ ” Emil asked, waiving a hand toward the direction they had been headed.

Lalli nodded, though he probably didn’t actually understand half the words. But he repeated, “ _Inte bra._ ” Then he stepped toward the tank, pulling Emil along by the arm and saying simply, “ _Tuuri._ ”

 

 

“I’m telling you that we have to find a different path!” Lalli slapped his hand flat on the table. Tuuri's eyes, peering at him from over her protective face mask, were pools of doubt. He wondered—not for the first time—why she’d bothered to drag him along as a scout for this expedition if she didn’t have any faith in his ability to recognize danger. “That thing was fast, Tuuri. I had to call on the wind to get away and keep ahead long enough to lead it off our path. If it finds this tank, it will crack it open like a nut. We will be helpless.”

The rest of the crew were watching the two Finns with their mouths hanging slightly ajar. Everyone but Mikkel, that is. None of them had ever heard the scout say so many words in a row. Most of them had doubted he was even capable of complete sentences. Even if they couldn’t understand a word of it, the stream of fluent Finnish still sounded impressive.

Lalli narrowed his eyes at his cousin. Sigrun asked mildly, “And what does our scout have to report?”

Tuuri’s mouth flapped a few times, but no sound came out. She put one hand to her brow. “He _says_ that he ran into a giant. Or two of them, actually.” Her voice was apologetic, as if Lalli were doing this just to embarrass her. His lips pressed into a white, bloodless line.

A similar hard look came over Sigrun’s face as soon as she heard the word giant. And she commanded Tuuri, “Tell me exactly what he has to say. And I do mean exactly, skald.”

 

 

Emil watched as Lalli spoke with quiet intensity, pausing after each sentence for Tuuri to translate his words. Sigrun never took her eyes off of the slight Finnish boy as he spoke, not sparing Tuuri a glance as she interpreted for her cousin’s blunt report.

_I was about two kilometers south by southwest from the tank. That was when I first saw the signs. The tank has probably traveled another kilometer since that time. So contact was made about a kilometer southwest from here._

_I drew my rifle and approached from the north to get a better look. There was one giant, maybe 3 meters tall. I could see at least six heads._

_I took out two heads before it spotted me. I got two more before it charged too close to aim at. Losing four heads didn’t stop it. Its main head must somewhere further inside the body._

Sigrun whistled under her breath. Emil knew enough from his own training to understand why. If the main head weren’t someplace that it could easy be knocked off from a distance, stopping the thing would be difficult without risking serious injury. His hands shook as he thought about taking on a thing like that on his own, kilometers away from any possible help. How did Lalli act like it was nothing?

_I took off eastward. The thing wasn’t terribly fast. The damage may have slowed it. I thought to lead it toward one of the former cities to the east. I thought it might be kept busy hunting other trolls instead of hunting us._

Emil watched as Sigrun nodded in approval. Lalli took this in stride, his expression not changing as he inclined his head slightly.

_On my way east, I was blindsided from the south. A second giant must have been attracted by the sound of the rifle fire. It slammed into me from the side and threw me to the ground. I had to put some distance between us before I could think about attacking it, but this one was still moving at full speed._

Mikkel interrupted to ask matter-of-factly if he had any injuries that needed attending to. Once Tuuri translated the question, Lalli shrugged. Mikkel said, “We’ll see to those later.”

_I couldn’t get more than a few meters ahead of the second troll to get a good look at it. I continued east and south to lead it further away._

Tuuri looked shaken as she repeated her cousin’s words in Swedish. Emil got the impression that she was beginning to appreciate what it was her cousin did for the first time. Hell, he himself was only beginning to appreciate what her cousin did for the first time. What would it be like, to be chased down by a giant and know that you couldn’t turn back toward your only allies in the world because you might doom them as well? How did you not give up?

_I had to use a spell to hold the two back and speed my way. Then I had time to cast out lures that would lead them away from my path. I continued south, then circled west around the tank to find you._

Sigrun nodded slowly. “Are your decoys still working?” she asked, and Emil was surprised for a moment that she believed any of that magic nonsense. Then he remembered that the Norwegians had mages, too, though they trained with the Icelanders. They simply didn’t know any better than to believe in their superstitions and little prayers.

Lalli closed his eyes for a moment, as if looking inside himself, and at last he nodded. His face was white and lined with strain. It made Emil feel sick to look at it and, though he was as skeptical about the so-called power of the gods as any decent Swede ought to be, he sent up a silent prayer to any that might listening at that particular moment. _Don’t let any giants find us. Don’t let anything find him._


	7. Lesson 7

**Lesson 7**

Emil sat in front of the little fire, looking into the dark. Everything outside of the dim circle of light was utter blackness and he couldn’t help a small shiver. Lalli had gone back out for night scouting, despite Emil’s protests. Like usual, no one had much listened to _his_ opinion on the matter. But Lalli had been scouting all day and had even taken a direct hit from a giant. He was in no shape to be running about in the night on his own, even if it was what he’d been doing every night of his life for years.

It was odd for Emil to think of what Lalli’s life must have been like up until now. He was used to thinking of the scout as some half-feral creature that he helped keep fed and healthy, but today he had gotten a glimpse of a different Lalli: a military scout with years of experience. Many more years than himself. When Lalli didn’t say anything, it was easy to treat him like a pet. But when he rattled off a detailed report of how he had single-handedly approached and engaged a giant…

The Swede shook his head again. He knew they were roughly the same age, so why was it that Lalli could do something like that and Emil couldn’t even imagine facing down a common troll without his mouth going dry?

He fed a few small twigs into the fire, which was keeping a large kettle of water at a brisk boil. He had volunteered to take the first night watch and wait for Lalli’s return to get him decontaminated and safely into the tank. Night watches had been mostly for show up until then—someone dozing in the front of the tank in case one of their remote sensors pinged—but no longer. He was to wake Sigrun once he was turning in, so that she would keep on guard the rest of the night. Once dawn approached, it would be Mikkel’s turn.

Emil shivered again, feeling like he was the last person alive in the world as the night pressed in around him and his small fire. He was afraid for Lalli, out there somewhere in the dark and with no one to watch his back. He was beginning to feel afraid for all of them, as he realized for the first time how alone their small crew was against a hostile world that might, at any moment, swallow them all up without leaving behind a trace.

  


Lalli trudged toward the tank, the blue glow leaving his eyes as the light from the fire grew closer. He was tired. He was bone-achingly tired. No one had forced him to go out again, though; he had been the first to insist upon it.

He hadn’t expected to find giants in such a wild place. They tended to form around cities—places where many humans had once lived and subsequently died. Running into not one but two in this desolate part of the map did not bode well for pressing further south. He hadn’t been able to imagine sleeping in any peace unless he’d confirmed that the perimeter around the tank was safe. But now that he had, he wanted nothing more than to fall into the sleep of the dead.

The fire could be seen from ages off, but as he got closer, he recognized the golden hair glinting in the flickering light. Emil. Of course it was Emil. He slipped quietly up to the fire and surprised the Swede out of his reverie by saying a short, “ _Hej_.”

The greeting was another thing—like the words for yes and no—that he’d picked up without thinking. It had been thrown around a hundred times in his presence. But this time, it caused Emil’s head to jerk up and a tired smile to blossom across his face, and the short syllable seemed more than worth it.

“ _Hej, Lalli_ ,” Emil said, climbing stiffly to his feet. “ _Är du trött?_ ” Lalli waited, not responding, for Emil to clarify and he wasn’t disappointed. “ _Trött_ ,” Emil repeated, giving an exaggerated yawn and pretending to pillow his face on his hands. “ _Är du trött?_ ”

Lalli nodded, beginning to peel off his long gloves. “ _Trött_ ,” he confirmed, dropping the gloves into the bag that Emil was holding open for him. Next he tugged off the boots, adding them to the sack. His jacket he parted with quite easily, but the worst was coming next.

They’d gone through this process several times before, when Lalli had come creeping back in the morning from overnight scouting missions. This was Emil’s first time handling the entire decontamination process himself, but it looked like he’d managed all right. He had kept a large kettle of water boiling and a tub of previously warmed water was already set up on the soil outside the tank. It had a lid on top of it, to try to keep all the heat from escaping, and Emil had probably been adding to it from time to time with fresh water, just as he was pouring the latest boiling kettle into it now. Lalli’s off-duty uniform was even hanging off of one of the tank’s side mirrors. But first came the rinse.

“ _Sanering_ ,” Emil said apologetically, as he picked up the full-powered hose that connected to the tank’s water reservoirs. Lalli grit his teeth and nodded. _Sanering_. Decontamination. As quick as he could, he stripped off his tight black undershirt and dropped his trousers to the ground, stepping out of them and facing Emil with his eyes squeezed shut.

The powerful jet of freezing water him in the chest first, then quickly moved up and down his body. Once he was sure his front had been rinsed, he turned and let Emil spray down his backside. The moment the water turned off, he scampered across the few remaining feet to the tub and leaped into it, ducking down to the let the hot water close all the way over his head.

Emil stuffed his discarded shirt and pants into the bag, and then the Swede stripped off his own gloves and tossed them in as well. Sealing the bag, he opened the tank’s side door to toss it into the UV chamber.

Lalli knew Emil was back when he felt the usual soap being poured over his head. Then Emil’s hands began to work it into a thick lather, scrubbing his scalp and going around each of his ears. It was a task that Lalli could have done himself, he knew, but it was much more enjoyable this way so he always sat still and left Emil to it.

He let himself relax in the hot water, his knees sticking up nearly to his chin in the small tub, while Emil poured pitcher after pitcher of water over him. _Är du trött,_ he thought to him. _Du means you. Trött means tired. Är du trött? Are you tired?_

Lalli thought he wouldn’t mind soaking in the small tub all night and letting Emil scrub his scalp. The day had been a nightmare. He had run longer and harder than he could ever remember doing. Or not, at least, since he'd been eight years old in Saimaa. Even now, back safe with his crew and melting into the hot water, he could only remember odd flashes of that desperate hour. Random impressions, like photographs, were all that remained: the burning in his chest as he ran; the stars that had appeared in his suddenly-black vision when he was struck by the second giant; a terrible amalgamation of jaws and shattered bones and grasping fingers; the smell of the wet forest covered in melting snow.

Emil was still slowly tipping warm water over him, letting it run through Lalli's hair. It was probably long since clean, but neither of them were pointing that fact out. Lalli had thought of Emil during that run. He had imagined the stupid Swede with his stupid smile, turning at some noise from the woods and looking for Lalli. He had seen in his mind that bright smile fading, along with the light in those blue eyes, when the giant ripped out his throat before stupid Emil even thought to raise his flamethrower. And Lalli had run even faster.

The water was beginning to cool and Lalli shuddered. Emil held up a towel, ready when Lalli rose quickly from the water and jumped out of the tub onto a patch of only slightly-muddy grass. He grabbed the towel and wrapped it around his hips while Emil rubbed his head with another, doing a pretty effective job at getting the excess water out of it before Lalli began to feel too cold in the autumn night air. If anyone knew hair, it surely was Emil.

Toweling off his body, Lalli grabbed his warm, baggy trousers from the tank mirror and jumped into them one leg at a time. He was reaching for his cozy sweatshirt when he heard the Swede gasp. He looked over his shoulder, one arm still raised to grab the shirt. Emil was staring at his side and one of his hands came up to touch the mottled patch that covered Lalli’s right ribcage. Lalli shivered at the touch, unable to help a small wince, and pulled his sweatshirt on to cover the large bruise.

“ _Är du okej?_ ” Emil asked softly. _Okej_. It sounded close enough to _okei_ , as they said in Finnish. _Are you okay?_

He nodded, stepping up onto the metal step that led up to tank’s door. “ _Okej,_ ” he said, with a pat on Emil’s shoulder. And then, before he disappeared inside to find a spot to sleep beneath the cots hung from the wall, he smiled faintly and said reassuringly, “ _Trött._ ”


	8. Lesson 8

**Lesson 8**

“Lalli…” Tuuri was rubbing the sleep out of her eyes and looking at him with that faintly worried look she was so good at. “Are you sure you should be alone out there?”

Lalli rolled his eyes. “Yes.” He was tugging his long glove up over his elbow. “The others are too slow. Too noisy.” There was no need to say anything more, as far as he was concerned, and he grabbed his rifle to sling it across his back, managing not to flinch when the bruise on his side pulled painfully. He was halfway out the door when he paused, one hand on the frame.

“What is the word for troll in Swedish?” he asked, still looking out into the weak morning daylight.

“Why?” Tuuri asked in a bewildered tone.

 _Why?_ Lalli shook his head to himself. “I work with the Swede and the Norwegian in the field. I should be able to tell them if there is danger.”

“Oh… Well, then it’s _troll_.” She sounded surprised, as if she’d never thought about the possibility that he might want or need to learn such things.

“Beast?”

“ _Odjur..._ ”

“Giant?”

“ _Jätte_. But, Lalli--”

“Danger?”

“ _Fara_. But, Lalli, I don’t think you can--”

“ _Odjur. Troll. Jätte. Fara_.” Lallie repeated the four words back to her and glanced back for confirmation that they all sounded right. Tuuri’s mouth hung open as she stared at him, but she nodded. So he left her to her shock and slipped outside.

  


Emil was standing at the ready in front of the tank, gripping his flamethrower. He had even more grenades strapped to his belt than usual, and Lalli could guess what was coming even before the Swede noticed him and stepped forward. “ _Jag kommer med dig,_ ” Emil said, obviously steeling himself up for a fight.

Lalli huffed his breath out. He’d been expecting this since the previous night. He clamped a hand around Emil’s wrist and agreed, “ _Du kommer._ ” But instead of heading away from the tank, he dragged Emil back to the door he had just come through. He only wanted Emil to come as far as the operations room where Tuuri would still be cooped up with her books. He shoved Emil in ahead of himself and rattled off quickly to his cousin, “Tell the Swede to stay within the area of the tank. I need to be able to check a wider range from now on. I cannot do that at his pace and the tank needs protection more than I do.” He paused for a moment, then added. “Tell him...I will check in every half hour. If I do not return by then, stop the tank. If I do not return within an hour, turn back. I will catch up if I can.”

Then he slipped out and dashed into the woods too quickly for either of them to possibly catch him.

  


Lalli was true to his word, though it meant even more running for him and slower progress for the tank. But Sigrun did not complain--or not seriously anyway--about the reduced pace. She was an experienced hunter. She would understand the threat of a giant finding the tank, Lalli was sure.

He had to change his usual sweeping pattern and depend more on magic than his eyes, which could not see far enough to thoroughly check the entire area with his new reduced scope. It was nearly two hours after starting out that he finally came across a large house that seemed good enough for the next part of his plan. He prowled through the two floors and the outbuildings near it. A few human remains, but no beasts or trolls. Perfect.

He loped back to find Tuuri and direct her to it. It didn’t take him long. The tank had kept to the path and the engine was so noisy that it was like a beacon in the silent fields.

Lalli scratched on the door to the cockpit once the tank rolled to a stop. Tuuri cracked it open and he reached one long arm past her to pull a map closer. Without a word, he tapped on the location of the house, then slipped away before Mikkel could complain about possible contagions and proper decontamination protocol.

Emil was still walking ahead of the trundling tank and Lalli fell into a comfortable pace near him. Once he had the crew settled at the house for a time, Lalli had decided, he would go out on a wider sweep to decide which way they should head next. The others would easily spend an hour scouring the place for useful books and packing them into the tank.

Lalli stretching his arms over head, darting a sideways glance at Emil. The Swede still seemed to be smarting about the way Lalli had left him behind that morning. He thought for a moment, then remarked as he rolled his shoulders, “ _Trött._ ”

From the corner of his eye, he could see that Emil’s head had shot up to study his face. Lalli kept his gaze fixed on the house in the far distance. He said in a questioning tone, “ _Du?_ ”

“ _Ja, jag är trött också,_ ” Emil said at last. He gestured to the house they were approaching. “ _Du hittade böcker?_ ”

Lalli recognized the word for books. He’d heard it enough times since leaving Sweden. So he nodded and confirmed. “ _Böcker._ ”

“ _Mycket bra._ ” Emil laughed briefly, “ _Sigrun ska bli glad när hon hör det._ ”

Lalli didn’t remember Emil laughing like that before. Like he was actually delighted about something and not just boasting. He liked it. “Sigrun?” he asked, not following the rest of the sentence.

“ _Sigrun blir glad_ ,” Emil repeated slowly. He poked his fingers into his cheeks, pulling his mouth up into a cocky grin, rather like the ones Sigrun tended to flash about. “ _Glad_ ,” he said, before pulling his face down into a thunderous frown next. “ _Arg_.” Then his face fell and he looked terribly sad, his hands drifting down from his face. “ _Ledsen_.”

Lalli caught one of those limp hands to draw Emil’s attention back to him. When Emil looked at him, he shook his head and said only, “ _Nej_.” By the questioning look that the Swede was giving him, Lalli knew that Emil didn’t understand what he was trying to say. But it didn’t matter to him. The sad expression was gone and, for some reason, that was all that Lalli had wanted.


	9. Lesson 9

**Lesson 9**

Emil had rested the muzzle of his rifle on the soil and was leaning his weight against the butt of the gun. He was scanning the horizon for any sign that Lalli was returning from his far ranging. He remembered feeling worried the first night that he’d ever watched Lalli set out on his own, after crossing the Öresund bridge. Worry was something he’d built up quite a resistance to in the past few weeks. But the bitter taste of fear over Lalli’s scouting was still new.

When Emil had been planning for this expedition and packing his things, he’d thought he might want to turn back out of fear for his own safety, but he’d never thought he might want to give up out of fear for someone else’s well-being. But it didn’t seem right that the slight Finnish boy should be out there somewhere on his own in a world which no living human had set foot in for a hundred years. It was positively insane, when you really stopped to consider it.

Emil thought again about insisting that he go along, too. Maybe if he talked to Sigrun and she made it an official order—but he knew she wouldn’t agree. The mission depended on successful scouting and Lalli had been right: Emil couldn’t run as fast as him or as long as him or as quietly as him. It was all true. And after hearing Lalli describe what had happened with the giant, he was sure that he couldn’t even handle himself in a fight as well as Lalli. What if he ended up getting in the way? What if Lalli ended up in more danger because the Finn thought he had to protect him?

The strange keening disquiet that he felt every moment knowing that Lalli was out there, maybe facing beasts or trolls or worse, had seemed to grow by the hour as that day had slowly crawled by. The only hope Emil could cling to was that they would reach Odense and find something so valuable that they decided to turn around and go back to civilization as soon as possible to share their discovery. And once they were there, he decided, he would lock Lalli in a nice, safe house, ply him with cookies, and keep him away from wild things.

Lalli would probably scratch his eyes out, but it seemed worth it to see his friend safe. Because that, Emil was now fairly sure, was what they were. Friends. He felt even more sure when Lalli finally came creeping back through the meadow at the appointed time. The scout stopped right in front of Emil and reached into his pocket. When he pulled his gloved hand back out, he was holding a jumble of slightly crushed berries. “ _Mat,_ ” Lalli said, picking up one of Emil’s hands to tip the berries into it. Then one corner of his lips quirked up. “ _Bra mat,_ ” he clarified, tipping his head toward Mikkel’s cook stove, over which a new pot of sludge was already bubbling.

“ _Tack för maten,”_ Emil said appreciatively. “ _Välkommen tillbaka._ ”

Lalli gave something between a nod and shrug, and slunk off to the tank, probably to find his cousin and the maps to report what he had learned. Emil looked down at the glistening blackberries in his hand, some of them already spreading purplish-red stains on his bare skin.

It was like the words Lalli had offered him unprompted on the way to the house. These berries also felt like some kind of apology, as if Lalli knew how much it bothered Emil to watch him go alone. As if, even while stalking through the wilderness on his own and looking out for terrible monsters, he thought enough of Emil to bring him back this gift. _Yes_ , Emil thought, putting one of the berries into his mouth. _That must be a friend._

He was startled out of his revelry by Mikkel’s deep voice suddenly thrumming out behind him. ”Would you look at that. It seems our scout’s able to find some food. Why don’t you ask him to bring some back for everyone next time?”

Emil was pretty sure that was what he said anyway. Listening to Danish being spoken was still like trying to understand someone speaking when you had tufts of wool packed into your ears. He gave a sheepish grin and nodded, feeling guilty about getting caught eating the berries without sharing them. But he also felt a curious sort of pride. Mikkel wanted him to talk with Lalli about gathering food. He could have just asked Tuuri. But he and Lalli had an obvious understanding of one another. They were _friends_ after all. And together they would show the whole crew what a great combo they were.

 

 

Lalli left his cousin scratching her head under the cloudy sky. She had dragged the maps out onto the grass, strapping on her facemask, so that he could point out the roads that had become unpassable and the spiritual cold spots that they should steer clear of. It was easier than having Lalli go through decontamination when he would be setting out against once he’d eaten. _Sanering_ , he thought to himself. _Decontamination is “sanering.”_

He spotted Emil flapping a hand at him, obviously wanting him to come over. With nothing much else to do until lunch, Lalli went where he was bade. He looked at the Swede questioningly, stretching one arm and then the other across his chest.

“ _Tack för maten_ ,” Emil said again, lifting one red-stained hand. Then he seemed to think for a moment before saying, “ _Var är maten?_ ” He shaded his eyes with one hand and looked about as though searching for something.

Lalli blinked. _Where? Is he asking where the food is? In his stomach, I’d assume._

Emil pointed to the forest and raised his hands in a questioning shrug.

 _Oh._ He wanted to know where to find food in the forest. Where was food in the forest? What a ridiculous question. It was everywhere. Lalli gestured with a broad sweep of his arm and a shrug.

Maybe Emil understood because next he slowly pronounced, “ _Mikkel blir glad. Om du samlar mat._ ” They’d covered that earlier today. Mikkel would be happy. Something about food. If he found food? Brought food? Starting cooking the daily meals?

“ _Mat?_ ” he said, pointing to the forest then to Mikkel.

“ _Ja,_ _precis. Om du samlar mat._ ”

Lalli shrugged noncommittally. But when he was coming back from his afternoon scouting and spotted a squirrel running up a tree, Lalli remembered to slip his knife from his belt. The little rodent froze, noticing the presence of a human in its territory and not recognizing what it was. Lalli aimed carefully, then let the knife fly. The haft struck the little creature at the base of the skull, then both knife and rodent fell to the ground, just as he’d hoped. He hadn’t wanted his knife to get stuck in the wood high in the tree and have to climb up to retrieve it.

He bound over and grabbed the stunned creature before it could recover, and wrenched its head about to snap its neck. Lalli tucked the little body into the back of his belt by its fluffy tail as he scooped up his knife and slipped it back into its sheath. When he got back to the tank some time later, he dropped the thing into Mikkel’s pot, and considered the task complete. Let no one ever say that he didn't do his job properly.

 

 

The next morning, Mikkel waited outside the tank for the scout to emerge. He’d been up for the last night shift anyway, so he’d taken the time to pull out an unused satchel. When Lalli tried to slip past him to head out in the morning, Mikkel clamped down one large hand on the boy’s bony shoulder. “Hold on there, lad,” he said, turning the scrawny Finn around with a tug.

“Thank you for the food yesterday. But perhaps you’d better let me prepare it next time.” He held up the bag that he’d found and pushed it onto the scout. “You can put anything that you find in there, and bring it back to me. I’ll take it from there.”

Lalli looked at the bag pressed against his chest. He took it in his own hands and peered inside it owlishly. Then he pointed one thin finger into it and said questioning, “ _Mat?_ ” Then he pointed to Mikkel, who did not let his expression change when he nodded.

But he was actually pleasantly surprised. He’d noticed the Swedish boy and the scout spending more time together, but hadn’t thought that the Swede would actually succeed in teaching Lalli anything useful. How interesting.

As he watched Lalli slip away among the trees in that way he shared with deer and other wild things, he wondered if Tuuri knew that her cousin was learning Swedish. He would bet his apron that she didn’t, and he would not be the one to tell her. It would be much more interesting to see how things unfolded on their own.

 

 

Mikkel had said something that sounded more or less like what Emil had said. Thank you for the food. And he seemed to want more of it, though in a bag this time. But by the afternoon that day, Lalli had decided that carrying the bag was not going to happen. If he held it in his hand, then he could not react as quickly if something surprised him. And when he wore it slung over his back with much of anything in it, it made him feel unbalanced. He did not need extra distraction when scouting.

So he had enlisted Emil. He’d pushed the bag onto the Swede after lunch, pointing inside it. ” _Mat,_ ” he explained.

Emil asked, ” _Du vill att jag ska bära den här?_ ”

Lalli shrugged and headed out again. Emil would understand soon enough. And so he did. The first time Lalli came back with a handful of mushrooms, Emil held the bag open without question and let him drop them in. The same with the lingonberries, the nettles, and the two squirrels that Lalli brought back from subsequent treks in different directions. When Mikkel came to take the bag before dinner preparations, he didn’t blink at the fact that Emil was carrying it, but he did heft it admiringly. And that night they feasted upon roasted squirrel on a bed of boiled nettles, chantarelles fried in squirrel fat, and their usual boiled grains—but this time at least slightly improved with lingonberries.

After shoveling down two full plates, Sigrun came up behind Lalli and Emil where the two were sat together. She slapped a hand on each boy’s back. “I knew I had a great crew here. And you, twig,” she said as she put her face right into Lalli’s. “You are now on the top of my list of people to keep alive on this trip. Congratulations.”

She grinned at him. He blinked for a moment, then finally said in a mild voice, “ _Tack._ ”

It was Sigrun’s turn to blink in surprise and then she laughed out loud as she walked away.

When they were alone again, Lalli asked quietly, “ _Sigrun blir glad?_ ”

Emil leaned over, nudging Lalli with his own shoulder. “ _Ja, Lalli,_ ” he said fondly. “ _Sigrun blir glad._ ” And the glow that Lalli felt, as he smiled quietly to himself, was not just from the fire.


	10. Lesson 10

**Lesson 10**

Several nights later, Emil was staring up at the stars as he waited for Lalli to show up. It had been more than a week since the night scouting had resumed, and Emil was unquestionably in charge of decontamination. No one else seemed eager to wait outside in the cold for hours, boiling kettle after kettle of water while waiting for Lalli to return and probably not even offer a word of thanks.

The bruise on Lalli’s side had faded to a greenish-yellow drift. Emil stole a look at it each night in the firelight, and sometimes risked letting his hand drift over the injury as he helped Lalli towel off. The scout generally swatted him away, but at least he didn’t wince any longer. He must have been getting better.

Emil rubbed his hands together and held his palms out before the cook stove to warm them. He hoped Lalli wouldn’t be much longer. The long days of walking about in front of the tank still exhausted him. And he would simply be glad to have Lalli back. He still worried, even if they’d had no greater trouble since the troll incident than a bit of engine failure. But it wasn't just the worry that made him impatient to see Lalli creep back to the tank. He’d come to look forward to these nights as the highlight of each day.

In the quiet night, while everyone else in their small crew slept unaware, he and Lalli stole a half hour of their own. Once they got the first cold wash out of the way, they would sit together beneath the dark sky: Lalli in the tub and Emil perched on the ground behind him, his sleeves rolled up as he ladled hot water over the Finn. Sometimes they talked, passing back and forth their few words and adding new ones to their conversations, but just as often they didn’t say anything more than a familiar exchange of " _Hej_."

And Emil found that he didn’t even mind. Comfortable silences were another new experience that this trip had brought him, but he was beginning to realize that there was something wonderful in being able to be together with someone and see the same landscape spread out before you and simply experience it together. Now all he needed was Lalli.

Lalli tried to approach the camp as quietly as usual. He failed, but luckily Emil wasn’t observant enough to notice the extra noise. Even he noticed, however, the way that Lalli was limping when he approached the fire.

The scout had done his best to hide the injury: gritting his teeth as he put his weight down on his left ankle as though it were perfectly normal to do so. But he’d failed in that regard as well.

" _Vad hände?_ " Emil asked, rushing forward to loop an arm under his shoulder and help Lalli to the camp stool that he had been sitting on moments before.

Lalli simply shook his head, already tugging at his gloves. Emil’s eyes were as round as the moon as he asked, " _Var det ett odjur?_ "

A beast? Hardly. Lallie shook his head and said, " _Nej."_ He held out his first glove expectantly, until Emil got the message and hastened to pick up the decontamination bag.

" _Ett troll då?_ "

" _Nej,_ " Lalli said crossly, dropping the other glove in after its mate. " _Inte troll."_

Emil gulped. " _Jätte?"_

Tugging his long boot over his swollen ankle made streams of light seem to flash behind his eyes and he ground out only two words. " _Nej. Sanering."_

He just wanted to get the decontamination over with, and sleep. Hopefully the heat and the rest would help his sprained ankle. Emil, well-meaning fool that he was, assumed that Lalli must have meet with some terrible foe in the woods. He didn’t seem to have guessed the reality: that Lalli had managed to step into a rabbit hole in the dark and twist his ankle, something he hadn’t done during a night scout since he had been a lowly apprentice.

His mood was as black as the sky overhead. It had been a stupid thing to do. He couldn’t afford to do stupid things like that, especially not here. This wasn’t Keuruu, where a group of scouts might be sent out searching for him if he didn’t return to make a report. If he didn’t make it back to the tank for any reason, the others would have to venture out into the dangerous wilds on their own to find him—or leave him to die as they retreated to the safety that lay beyond the Öresund bridge.

Emil stood stock still, like a statue, the clothing bag hanging from his hands. He clearly didn’t believe that Lalli wasn’t hiding some terrible run-in with a monster, and Lalli didn’t have the words to explain the reality of his night even if he’d wanted to. He yanked his second boot off viciously, then peeled off the rest of his clothes in quick succession until he was standing in the frosty air as bare as the day he was born. The frozen ground burned under his tender feet but he refused to move any part of himself but an expectant eyebrow as he waited for Emil to get on with things.

" _För helvete, Lalli!_ " Emil swore as he dropped the bag and grabbed up the hose, which was at least already hooked up to the tank’s reserve tank. He began spraying Lalli down as protocol demanded and under the pounding of the water, Lalli could hear a steady stream of curses continuing from the Swede. Keeping his eyes screwed shut against the spray prevented him from having to react, though.

As soon Emil shut off the hose, he dropped it to the ground and grabbed up the latest kettle, sloshing it into the half-filled tub and splashing himself with boiling water. He dropped the kettle, flapping his arm in the cold night air. " _Fan! Jag ska bara lämna dig där för att frysa, envis jävel!_ "

Lalli watched all this, every muscle locked to keep from shivering. He felt equal parts guilt and gratification at seeing Emil in just as foul a mood as he had been. His nose held high in the air, he strolled over the tub and climbed in. Emil’s thunderous face made it look like he would’ve liked to tip the damn tub over, Lalli and all.

" _Tack_ ," Lalli offered diplomatically. He wanted to stay in the warm water and not end up with his backside in a pool of mud outside the tank. Emil flopped onto the ground beside him, letting his head hang down against his knees.

Lifting just one arm from the hot water, Lalli reached out to pat Emil on the head. He smoothed his hand over that golden hair once, before pulling his arm back into the warmth of the bath.

Emil looked up at him with a hopeless look. Then he dragged himself up to do his job. He picked up the uniform that Lalli had thrown to the ground and put it into the decontamination bag. He opened the UV chamber in the tank to chuck the bag in, and then grabbed the anti-microbial soap. By the time he was tipping some of the liquid into the palm of his hand, he seemed to have forgiven Lalli.

The regularity of the decontamination process saved them both from having to apologize. Lalli sunk down further into the bath, his tense muscles finally releasing when he felt Emil’s strong fingers scrubbing his scalp. The Swede was ruthlessly thorough, his hands working over every inch of Lalli’s head, his fingers sifting through the wet, silvery strands as he poured cup after cup of water over the scout.

Lalli let his head fall back. Through slitted eyes, he could see the hazy sky overhead them. The heat soaking into his ankle was helping and his temper was fading along with the pain. Maybe the sprain wasn’t as bad as he’d feared. He could still do his job.

Emil rested his arms on the edge of the tub, his forehead against the damp coolness of Lalli’s hair. " _Jag hatar verkligen detta, vet du det? Du bör inte vara ensam. Det är för farligt._ " The words spilled past Lalli, who only picked out the few he knew: _I, you, are, not._

_"Jag ska prata med Sigrun. Jag kommer med dig från och med nu."_

Lalli stiffened. He recognized more of these words. Something about Sigrun. Then... _I’m coming with you._

He stepped from the bath, grabbing at a towel and rubbing himself down furiously. " _Nej_ ," he snapped, flinging the towel at Emil so that he could grab up his pants and pull them on.

_"Vad? Varför? Jag vill komma med dig!_ "

Emil grabbed at his arms as Lalli tried to pull his sweater over his head, and they struggled for several moments. Lalli’s head popped out of the neck of the sweater at last, his hair flying every which way. Gasping in the fresh air, he wrestled Emil’s hands away. " _Nej! Nej du. Inte du. Nej, nej, nej!"_

Emil seemed to be stunned into silence. The moment that Lalli had recognized what Emil was saying, he’d seen it all as clearly as if it was already a part of their daily rituals. The two of them traipsing through the woods together for the crew. Hunting for food and signs of trouble. Emil reporting back to the tank so that Lalli could scout further ahead. The team they would be.

He'd seen himself putting a warning hand out when he sensed something ahead. Emil raising his flamethrower to be at the ready. Emil at his back, keeping it safe. Then he’d seen Emil at his side, falling. His imagination had played through all the terrible ways it could go wrong. Emil being too slow to get away from some beast. Emil getting in the way of a troll to try to help him. Emil laying unmoving on the ground, blood running across his white face in little rivers.

_"Du inte kommer,"_ he said fiercely.

_"’Du kommer inte,’"_ Emil corrected him, and Lalli slapped him. He watched Emil’s head snap back, then gawked at his own raised hand as if it were a foreign creature. He hadn’t meant to do that. He hadn’t hit another person out of anger in years. And yet his hand had flown out, without his control, to slap the Swede across the face.

"I don't care what you want to do," he began quietly in Finnish. He normally didn't bother speaking Finnish to anyone on the crew. They wouldn't understand him and Lalli saw no use in taking pointless actions. But now the words were spilling out of him before he could grab them back, just like his hand had betrayed him. "My job as a mage is to help guide lost souls to where they should be. My job as a scout is to find any potential dangers and ensure the physical safety of my crew."

He couldn't bear looking at the stricken expression on Emil's face and he screwed his eyes shut, balling his hands over his ears. "My job is not to make you feel better. I don't need you to be happy. I need to keep you safe. Why can't you understand that? I _have to keep you safe_."

Hands tugged at his, trying to pull them away from his ears. He struggled against Emil, refusing to lower his arms or open his eyes. A sharp humming rose in his throat, the comforting noise helping block out the rest of the world. It was the way he had learned as a child to deal with a world which was so often too much for Lalli to take in. As he'd grown to be an adult, he'd learned other ways to cope. He'd learned to blend in and not draw attention to himself. He had learned to contain his feelings and not let them take over him. But these feelings were too much to contain.

Then something happened that Lalli could never remember happening during one of his episodes. Arms wrapped around his, not trying to tug them away any longer but instead enfolding him in a safe circle. He held himself stiffly as Emil patted him on top of his wet hair and made soothing shushing noises in his ear. He stopped humming to hear the noises Emil was making for him. They made him think of the sound you heard swimming underwater in the lakes of his youth, when the waves sweeping in along the shore were strong enough to send the sandy grit skittering back and forth. It was a sound he associated with solitude and peace, but it was shared now with someone else.

" _Okej, Lalli."_ Emil said softly, his arms strong and firm around his back. " _Okej. Jag kommer inte."_

Lalli's knees gave out and he slid down limply, feeling suddenly more tired than he had since he'd lost his Luonto. Emil supported his weight for him, slowly lowering him to the camp stool he'd sat on before. Then he crouched down beside Lalli. His hand came up and brushed the clinging strands of hair from Lalli's face. When Lalli didn’t protest, Emil slipped his arm around Lalli’s shoulder, tugging their heads together until they rested forehead to forehead. " _Du vinner._ _Jag kommer inte. Okej, Lalli?"_

And Lalli sighed. And he said, " _Bra."_


	11. Lesson 11

**Lesson 11**

Emil woke when Lalli ruffled his hair as he walked by. This was a part of their new morning routine, which had begun after the Bath Incident—as Emil had come to think of it. Despite Lalli’s protests, Sigrun had insisted that either she or Emil would shadow him for several days until Mikkel judged his leg safe for normal activity. Lalli had elected Emil. Sigrun was already up most the night on watch and everyone in the crew was quite happy to let her sleep the day away, or else her temper ended up as short and fiery as her red hair.

After a week of Lalli being forced to slow himself to Emil’s pace, Mikkel had declared him fit for independent work and Lalli had been off again into the woods as quick as a deer bounding away from danger. But the morning routine had remained, a fact which filled Emil with an odd sense of contentment.

He liked to be up first among the crew, to wash his face and fix his hair before the others started moving. Lalli seemed to have noticed that now that his role as day scout required him to actually be around and awake during the mornings. And so every morning, Lalli tugged his fingers through Emil’s hair as he passed out of the tank to stretch for the day. The first time he’d done it, Emil had been halfway to his gun before he realized that they weren’t under attack.

Now Emil grinned up at the bunk above him as he rolled onto his back and heard the door quietly close after Lalli. Then he heaved himself up and began his day. Fumbling into his outdoor clothes, he stepped out through the door that Lalli had slipped out of earlier. The world was a brilliant white in the low sunlight. A light dusting had fallen over night. Emil found himself grinning again. The weather had never been more than a nuisance and a danger to his hair in the past, but now he quite liked the snow. His eyes followed the tracks of the scout to where they led off to the west. Yes, snow was a great thing.

As quietly as he could, Emil dragged the cook stove outside of the compartment on the side of the tank where it was stored when not in use. With a magnesium fire starter, he quickly knocked off a few sparks and got a fire going. His naptha lighters were faster, but he wouldn’t waste fuel on a task like this. He might need a quick light sometime in the field when it really mattered.

He filled a kettle with water from the tank’s reservoir, giving it a little knock with his knuckle to gauge how much was left inside. The hollow thunk told him that finding a clean water source would need to be on Lalli’s list of tasks to do that day.

When the water in the kettle had grown warm, but not boiling, he poured some into a bowl and used it to wash his face diligently. His hair would do for now, he decided, examining his reflection in the water surface as he shaved. But he should have a proper wash the next day. If it wasn’t snowing, that is. Not many of the others seemed too concerned about personal hygiene, but that was just what you got with foreigners sometimes. The others only bathed when decontamination procedure demanded that they do so. But at least that meant that Lalli was always clean.

The rest of the water left in the kettle had reached a rolling boil by the time Emil was finished patting his face dry. He fetched his canteen from where it had been hanging on a hook inside the tank. First he carefully tipped a small amount of boiling water into it, gave it a good swish about, then dumped the water out onto the snow. It was the closest to clean that it would ever get out here. Then he filled it a second time, this time nearly to the top. He tucked the canteen into his jacket, where it worked like a hot water bottle, and went to see where Lalli’s tracks led.

Once he’d got a hundred meters or so from the tank, he found a flattish rock to sit on and settled down to wait. Lalli would come back soon, once he’d found something good. That was the agreement they had naturally arrived at, in the week that they had roamed the woods together, and Emil was perfectly happy to respect it that morning. The glowing canteen was keeping him warm, and he had his rifle on his back. In the fresh clean of the new snow, it seemed impossible that anything bad should happen.

His mind must have been wandering more than he’d realized because Emil didn’t notice Lalli approaching until the Finn dropped down right behind him on the rock. Emil nearly shouted when the sudden weight fell against his back, knocking him out of his unseeing daze. ” _Lalli_ ,” he hissed. ” _Gör inte det!_ ”

He felt, rather than saw, Lalli shrug against him. In revenge, Emil pushed back against the slighter boy, nearly bucking him off the rock. Lalli tossed his head back, knocking their skulls together with a solid clunk. Doubling over and clutching his head, Emil swore, "Why would you _do_ that? You evil little Finn!"

Lalli's shoulders shook with silent laughter, and the pain almost seemed worth it. A laughing Lalli was a new experience, even if it had been brought about by his own suffering.

The scout swung himself around to sit side by side with Emil on the broad rock. " _Okej?_ " he asked, as he patted the back of Emil's blond head.

"Well, I don't think I'm bleeding, at least..." Emil muttered as he fished into his jacket, pulling out the canteen to pass it across to his friend. Lalli took it and swung his legs back around the the other side of the stone, leaning against Emil's back once more. Emil could hear him unscrew the cap and stuff a few leaves into it, giving the bottle a good swish. Then they waited, back to back, in comfortable silence.

After a minute or two had crept by, Lalli took a swig from the steaming canteen. He handed it over his shoulder to Emil. The smell of spearmint came wafting toward his face before Emil even lifted the improvised tea to his mouth. ”Nice find,” he murmured. Some mornings, Lalli’s herbs were strange bitter things that Emil didn’t recognize as food—and definitely not as a pleasant drink to start the day with. But mint tea was good. It was recognizable. It probably wouldn’t leave him shitting in the woods. Not that any of Lalli’s other picks had done so—but it would only take one mistake.

He breathed in the steam from the bottle then took a cautious taste. This was how Emil's mornings now began. Lalli set out, after waking Emil, to hunt for things to gather. They took a moment to rest over a morning cup of something hot, passing the canteen back and forth between sips, then Lalli led Emil (and Mikkel’s food bag) to whatever he had found for breakfast.

Once Mikkel had realized that he could ask the scout to help provide for their meals as well, the concerns about them all starving to death on the limited provisions they had been given were largely relieved. They’d cut down their rations of mush (or boiled oats, as Mikkel insisted on calling them) by half at least, with the timely addition of wild greens, squirrels, the rare rabbit, nuts, and berries when they could be found. Lalli seemed particularly inclined to hunt out berries. He appeared to have a sweet tooth.

That morning he led Emil to a bilberry batch. Emil was still staring agog at the endless field of the low shrubs when Lalli squatted down and got to work at stripping the nearest bush into his hand. Emil quickly set the bag on the ground, spreading its gaping mouth so that it would stay open for them to drop berries into it. Bilberries were tender, so the ones on the bottom would quickly turn into something resembling jam more than berries, but it would serve Mikkel’s purposes just fine.

They crept around the patch slowly, only moving when there were no more berries within immediate reach. At one point, Emil stopped and looked up at Lalli. He propped his face up on his hand for a moment, resting his elbow on his upright knee. In these quiet morning moments, it seemed possible to forget where they were. Their mission, the beasts that prowled the world they had been born into, where they were going now and why. It was just him and his friend, working hard and enjoying the fruits of their labor.

Lalli popped a berry into his mouth at that moment, as if to prove the point. Emil smiled. ”Lalli,” he said softly. The scout looked up at him and Emil realized that he’d spoken out loud. He hadn’t mean to say anything. He’d just had the sudden urge to see Lalli look at him. He floundered for a moment, now that the Finn was waiting with a cocked eyebrow for something more. Then a movement in his peripheral vision caught his attention.

”Lalli!” he cried in a hushed yelp, reaching out and grabbing the scout with his left arm. He dragged Lalli back against his own body, his right hand already fumbling behind himself for his gun. The dark shape that he’d seen hazily from the corner of his eye had resolved itself into a brown bear, who huffed in annoyance to find someone else in its berry patch.

Emil’s hand found the trigger and he pulled his gun up to aim it—then Lalli threw an arm across his chest, his hand clamping on top of Emil’s to point the gun back down at the ground. ” _Nej_ ,” the scout said softly.

Emil turned his head a few degrees to see Lalli’s face, which was only inches to the side of his. And Lalli’s eyes, which were normally the clear gray of ice on a lake, appeared to be shining as brightly blue as the sky at noon. Emil blinked and then Lalli began speaking.

It was something in Finnish. Emil couldn’t tell if it was a song or a prayer or just soothing nonsense to try to keep the bear from eating their faces. But after just a few lines, Lalli lifted his left hand and tipped his fingers forward as though pushing something away. And the bear—the easily 250 kilogram bear—snuffled again and began to lumber away in the opposite direction.

Emil didn’t believe in magic. But he knew he had just witnessed something miraculous, even if it had been no more than luck. He didn’t loosen the arm he had twisted across Lalli’s chest as the brown bear trudged off into the distance. ”That was a real bear, wasn't it?” he whispered, more to himself than to the other boy tucked into his side. "Not a beast?"

Lalli shuddered and agreed, " _Inte odjur._ "

” _Är du okej?_ ” He peered at the Finn, and Lalli squeezed his eyes shut as he nodded. Lalli’s eyes stayed shuttered as he held himself still, his long legs curled up nearly under his chin, and his right hand still over Emil’s grip on the gun. Emil’s left arm was looped around Lalli and his hand was clinging to the scout’s jacket. The ridiculous hood that Lalli so often hid behind was rough against his ear. Lalli’s ash blond hair, in contrast, felt like thin silk against his chin. And the morning sunlight made the thin snow sparkle like a blanket of diamonds.

" _Fan_." Emil dropped his head into Lalli's shoulder as he swore. "Don't tell Sigrun what just happened. She'll kill me if she finds out that I let that much meat just walk away."

 

 

While shoveling down a bowl of boiled mush topped with crushed bilberries at dinner that night, Emil noticed Tuuri and the Icelander arguing across the fire. Perhaps arguing was too strong a word, but the mangy redhead certainly seemed to want something that Tuuri didn't look happy about. As he watched, Emil saw the Icelander point in his direction and flap his arm about insistently. Emil was tempted to feel offended at being pointed at in such a way, and especially by such a buffoon, but then he realized that Reynir wasn't pointing at him--he was pointing at Lalli, who was seated beside him. Emil liked this even less.

Tuuri shook her head resignedly and stood up, setting her food down on the chair she'd been sat on and gesturing for Reynir to follow her. Emil's eyes narrowed on the two as they edged around the fire and stopped right in front of Lalli. Tuuri was wringing her hands nervously, and neither of them so much as spared Emil a glance before Tuuri started speaking to Lalli in Finnish.

Emil's mood grew blacker as he watched Lalli's face close off. He had annoyed the scout plenty of times himself and recognized the expression at once. Lalli was no happier about this conversation than he was. Emil raised his hand uncertainly, wanting to touch Lalli's arm and reassure him in some way, but he was unsure if it would really make anything better. Lalli must have noticed the movement, because he glanced at Emil from the corner of his eye while Tuuri kept talking in an apologetic tone. He patted Emil's hand where it was hovering in midair, then turned his attention back to his cousin.

 

 

"I know you don't know anything about Icelandic magic and I tried telling him that, but he just won't stop insisting that he needs to talk to you." Tuuri's face was miserable, but Reynir didn't seem to notice as he looked between her and Lalli eagerly. "He said that you talked once before in your dreams, but that you, um, attacked him?"

Lalli shrugged, not seeing any need to explain. The Icelandic barbarian had come straight into his private dreamspace. He'd been lucky to get away that lightly.

Tuuri went on, "So he wanted me to help ask permission this time. He wants to talk to you in a dream, if he can. Without getting punched in the face this time, I suppose."

"Why?" Lalli asked, his eyes narrowing. "If he has some message, relate it to me now."

With a sigh, Tuuri turned back to Reynir and they went back and forth in Icelandic for several minutes. At last, she threw up her hands in the air. "He says he only thinks he can explain it to another mage. He's not sure what it is he's feeling, so he wants to talk to you directly about it. He says he has tried reaching Onni in his dreams, but that he hasn't been able to on any of the past few nights."

Emil was radiating anger beside him, and Lalli was oddly grateful. Even if they weren't annoyed for exactly the same reasons, it was gratifying to know that he wasn't the only one bothered by this conversation. Perhaps he wasn't being unreasonable, though Tuuri was always so good at making him feel like he was whenever he got annoyed by other people. He couldn't show his outrage as outwardly as Emil could, but he was glad one of them could. Shooting another glance at the Swede, he reached out again, patting Emil's knee because it seemed like a good idea. The way that Emil's tight face eased told him that he had been right. Lalli liked being right.

"Fine," Lalli said to Tuuri. "Tell him I will allow him in this one night. But make sure he understands that he does not have an open invitation."

Tuuri nodded several times quickly and began pushing Reynir away, already rattling something off to him in Icelandic again.

" _Vad var det?"_ Emil asked him, as soon as the two had walked away.

He wanted to know what the conversation was about? Lalli considered shrugging the question away, but Emil had been angry for him. Lalli thought for a moment about how to respond. At last he asked, " _Vad är jag? "_

Emil waffled for a moment, unsure how to respond. " _Finsk? "_

Lalli shook his head with a frown. What was it Emil always told him?  _Gör inte det! _Don't do that. " _Vad g ör jag?"_ he tried again, trying to get Emil to tell him the name of his job.

"Oh!" Emil face lit up. " _Du är e_ _n spanare._ " Lalli raised his eyebrows, waiting for some explanation. Emil quickly said, " _Du, um, du gå ut och hitta fara."_ Lalli shook his head. Walking? Finding danger? Then _spanare_ had to mean scout.  


" _Vad g ör jag?"_ he repeated.

" _En...en magiker?"_ Emil suggested, uncertainly. That had to be it. So _magiker_ in Swedish was mage. It was almost like  _maagi_ in Finnish. Lalli nodded.

" _Reynir vill...pratar magiker."_ He pieced the sentence together the best he could, hoping that Emil would be able to guess what he meant.

" _Han vill prata med dig? Om magi_ _?_ " Lalli nodded. That sounded about right. If he was right, Emil had suggested that Reynir wanted to talk to him about magic--or mages or something. That was close enough to the truth.  


" _Reynir vill prata med mig,"_ he repeated. " _På... sover."_

Emil looked baffled and Lalli knew he wasn't putting the words together right. He grimaced and tried again. " _På natt. Jag sover. Reynir sover. Vi pratar." __At night. I sleep. Reynir sleeps. We talk._

" _När du sover? Du pratar?_ " Emil sounded even more confused. " _Du kan göra det?_ " He glanced at Reynir and asked doubtfully, " _Han kan göra det?"_  


Lalli looked back at him without saying anything, and Emil suggested, " _Kanske?_ " This was a word Lalli didn't recognize and he raised his eyebrows. Emil held out his left hand and said, " _Nej._ " He held up his right hand in the same way and said, " _Ja._ " The he brought his hands together in the middle and shrugged. " _Kanske?_ "

Lalli nodded. Yes, maybe. " _Kanske,_ " he agreed.

He had little better idea than Emil why the Icelander wanted to talk to him. Little better idea than Emil, but not no idea. The truth of the matter was that Lalli had been feeling an increasing sense of unease ever since they had left the city behind. He didn't remember much of what had happened there, but he did have a disquieting memory of spirits breaking through every shield he had up around his dreamspace, before Onni's presence had whipped them all away. He'd been hoping that the sense of dread was just his own discomfort about how far out they were traveling. But if even the Icelander was feeling something...the situation could be worse than he'd thought.

Lalli reached out and patted Emil on the knee again, just because he felt like he could. Emil caught his hand for a moment and peered at him with a worried look. Lalli wondered if his face had betrayed his fears and he made sure to wipe it blank before slipping his hand from Emil's. He stood, stretching his arms overhead and offered, " _Jag är en s_ _panare."_ _I am a scout._

" _Och du gör natt spaning. Jag vet._" Emil gave a crooked smile. " _Lycka till._ _Håll dig säker._ "

Lalli accepted the good-luck wishes with a nod, then slipped his rifle over his shoulder and was gone before anyone else at the fire noticed.

 

 

Left alone with the rest of the crew, Emil couldn't put his questions out of his mind. Sigrun was ribbing Mikkel about the food, off to the left of where Lalli had been sitting beside him. Emil stood and sidled over to Tuuri instead. They'd talked quite a bit in the early days of the expedition, but now that he spent most all of his time walking outside the tank while she drove it, he only exchanged words with her at meal times like this

"Hey, Tuuri," he said, squatting down next to her camp chair. "Why does the Icelander want to talk to Lalli?"

She rolled her eyes, then quickly glanced over her shoulder to be sure that Reynir hadn't seen her do it. "Oh, that. He's convinced that he's actually a great mage, but just never knew it before coming out here to the silent world." She frowned. "He certainly does seem to have some gift for magic, but there's no one here who can teach him anything about Icelandic magic. He's asked both Lalli and Onni--my brother, you remember? He's the one who taught Lalli magic--but Finnish mages are totally different from Icelandic mages."

"Reynir talked to Lalli before? What happened?"

"Well, I only heard Reynir's side of it, but he said that Lalli, um, punched him with a tree." She looked embarrassed to even utter the words.

Emil gaped at her. He himself had recently been slapped by Lalli, but that was the most violent he had ever seen the Finn. "Wha-what do you mean, punched him with a tree?" Tuuri's Swedish was normally quite flawless, but something most have gone wrong in translation this time.

"Oh, well, it was in a dream, of course. Mages can talk to one another in their dreams. Didn't you know that?"

Emil fought down the urge to bristle at her words. Why should he know about their ridiculous superstitions? But that must have been what Lalli was trying to tell him. He still couldn't believe it, though. "Sure," he said, "everyone has conversations in their dreams. But that doesn't make them real."

Tuuri's brows came down over her grey eyes and Emil suddenly felt like he was facing down Lalli himself. "When mages talk to one another in their dreams, it is a real," she insisted. "Lalli has passed messages to my brother for me lots of times."

"So the Icelander can talk to Lalli in his dreams?" It was unbelievable--and more than a bit galling, considering how long and how hard he had been working to have even the most basic exchanges with Lalli. Tuuri nodded and Emil thought for a while. "Well then, could he pass a message along for me?"

"A...message?" Tuuri repeated.

"Exactly. Tell the Icelander..." He paused, trying to think of something he could easily use as a test. "Have him tell Lalli to bring the canteen tomorrow. That I'll take care of the rest."

Tuuri repeated the message uncertainly. She didn't seem to understand the point and to be honest, the message was pretty meaningless. But if Lalli really did take the canteen from the hook when he left in the morning, then Emil would know that either Lalli and Tuuri was telling the truth--or that she'd told Lalli the message herself. But he was always the last one to see Lalli at night for decontamination, and the first to be woken by him in the morning when he left for scouting. When would she have the chance to tell him anything? It seemed like a foolproof plan, even if the fool involved was Reynir. He would show them what their silly superstitions were worth.

 

 

The next morning Emil was rudely awoken by something slamming into his stomach. He flew upright, looking around the narrow sleeping chamber wildly. Lalli was standing over him with his thin arms crossed over his chest. Emil gulped when he saw the cold look on Lalli's face. Those icy grey flicked down pointedly and Emil followed their path down to the canteen that had fallen into his lap after he'd sat up. That was what Lalli had struck him with.

With one last disgusted look, Lalli flew out the door. Emil stumbled up out of the bed, getting tangled up in the blanket in his haste. He fell onto Reynir, who was still sleeping on the floor, and the idiot yelped out loud, waking up everyone else in the tank.

"What's attacking?" Sigrun asked in a muzzy voice.

"It's nothing, Sigrun. Go back to sleep," Emil snapped as he pulled on his boots. He ran out the door without even grabbing his jacket. The ground outside was covered with new snow, but there was not a single footprint to give him any hint of where the Finn had ran off to. Emil's eyes hunted all around the door but the powdery snow was unmarked. He had no idea how Lalli had managed to get away from the tank without leaving behind a trace, but the boy was gone. And, it would seem, none too pleased about Emil's "test."


	12. Lesson 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're going off the rails! I'd originally planned for this to re-converge with the comic after Lesson 10 or so, and had even planned for the scene in the town when Lalli talks to Sigrun and Emil as the closer. But then Lalli was all worried and so very interesting in the recent comic pages, so I've been tempted to keep running parallel to the real story. And just when I was, Minna switched over to Reynir's perspective! So I've just had to find a way to pass the time until we can rejoin the main story. I think I found a fun way to pass the time. ;)

**Lesson 12**

Lalli fumed as he stalked away from the tank. He wasn't even bothering to sweep the sides of the road. This wasn't scouting. This was simply getting away before he did something he might regret.

He realized that he was still calling on the wind to hide his tracks behind himself and he let the spell go, feeling some of his strain go with it. But not his anger. It wasn't only Emil that he was mad at--though he most definitely was mad at the over-groomed, under-trained, and altogether infuriating Swede. But he had been unhappy from the moment that Reynir had come tripping into his dreamspace and plopped himself down. And then jumped up and shuffled nervously from one foot to the other as he'd said, "Sorry. I'm so sorry. I should have asked first, shouldn't I? Um, can I have a seat?"

Lalli had gestured him down without a word, then waited for the idiot to get to the point of why he'd come. As the Icelander continued babbling, though, he had realized his mistake. Lalli had cut him off in the middle of a glowing description of how amazing the dreamscape was to ask bluntly, "Why is it that you needed to talk to me?"

"Well, um, we never really got to talk about what happened with those creepy ghosts, right?" Lalli had continued to stare at Reynir, waiting for him to say something worth responding to, and the Icelander had cleared his throat nervously. "You did see them, right? When you scouted out that place ahead of us?"

Lalli had indeed noticed them, so he'd nodded.

"Didn't you feel like they, um, well, hated you?"

"They were lost spirits. They hate everything. That is why mages try to help them move on."

"Ohhh," Reynir had said quietly. "Right. But...do they normally attack people like that?"

Lalli hadn't had an answer for that question. Spirits trapped within trolls and the like certainly caused trouble for the living, but he had never seen incorporeal spirits so violent or so strong in Finland. When those shades had reached through his defensive shields like they were nothing, he had felt a terror deeper than anything he'd felt since he was a boy. He had still been missing his luonto and without it, he might have very well had what was left of his soul consumed--if Onni hadn't shown up.

"It's not common where I am from," he'd said at last to the Icelander in their shared dream, sitting in the very same spot where he had nearly made his last stand against the angry ghosts.

Reynir had put the tips of his index fingers together, twiddling them nervously. "Well, the reason I ask is...ah..." He'd trailed off and scratched his head with a sheepish laugh. "I know it's stupid, but I kind of have been getting the same feeling. The same feeling that I got when I saw those ghosts. It had gone away for a little while, after Tuuri's brother saved us, but it's been coming back. More and more."

And Lalli's heart had sunk. It wasn't just him. It wasn't his imagination: they really were being stalked. Onni had taught him a few new prayers to try out against the spirits, but that was the only tool he had left. He was alone here--except for the Icelander. Reynir did have power. Lalli had known that from the first time he had appeared before him in the dreamscape. But Lalli knew of no way for either him or Reynir to use that power. Which left only him to protect the crew from whatever was coming.

Should he talk to Sigrun? He had considered the option several times already, as he trudged through the ankle-high snow that had fallen overnight. But he didn't know how to put this dread into words that would convince anyone else but a fellow mage. Even if Tuuri translated his words for him, even if he somehow finally found the right words--which he never seemed able to do when he had to talk to people he didn't know well--he knew Tuuri would try to downplay what he was saying.

She didn't want this trip to end. She had been dreaming of a chance like this since she had been old enough to understand that there was a world beyond Saimaa. But because of it, she refused to take him seriously. He'd known it. He could tell from her embarrassed tone of voice, her apologetic expression. Almost every time that she passed along any of his messages, her body language told him all he needed to know.

Lalli didn't blame her for feeling the way that she did. He didn't blame her for not wanting to believe that this all had to end. This was her dream. If he had a dream, maybe he would fight as hard to keep anyone from taking it away from him, too. But the only thing Lalli lived for was his work. He got up each day, did what was expected of him, and then rested once he had done what he was supposed to. That was all life was. An endless repetition of the same routines. Life was simply doing what you were supposed to do--until one day you didn't, and you made a mistake, and then that was the end.

 

 

" _Lalli!_ "

The faint call echoed down the road. Lalli stopped in his tracks. It was Emil's voice of course. He thought for a moment about ducking off into the trees. Emil would never find him in the brush if he didn't want to be found. But what was the point of hiding? He wasn't going to run away on his own and never return. He had a job to do. He had a crew to keep safe. He would have to face the Swede again sooner or later.

He stopped in the middle of the road and waited for Emil to catch up to him. The Swede's voice slowly grew louder. But instead of coming closer down the road, Lalli noticed that the voice was coming quite definitely from his left. And it was becoming more desperate. Had the idiot wandered off into the trees and thought to find Lalli there? Shaking his head, Lalli set off toward the west.

" _Lalli?_ " Emil's voice came again. " _Lalli! Var är du?!"_

Lalli began walking faster. The dolt was shouting in the middle of the silent world as he'd never been taught the most basic common sense as a child. Stand still, stay silent. Didn't he even know that much? It was as if he wanted to be attacked. Every terrible end for Emil that Lalli had ever conjured up in his imagination began playing once more in his mind. And Lalli started running.

Emil shouted out for him somewhere further ahead. Lalli sped through the trees, leaping over roots and twisting under branches. He couldn't be that far, he told himself. There couldn't be anything that bad in the area or Lalli would have felt it. He hadn't been so distracted by his anger that he would have missed the telltale cold of a beast's presence, had he? Another frightened cry reached his ears and he yelled back, " _Emil!"_

When he finally spotted the Swede among the trees up ahead, his hair too golden to be anything native to the forest, Lalli skidded to a stop. Emil turned and gaped at Lalli as if he were a phantom. Lalli was afraid that he probably had a similar expression on his face.

Emil was standing before him in only his shirt and trousers. No jacket. No gloves. No gun. Not even a single grenade. The incredible idiot had come running out into the unknown with no defense against either the weather or the creatures he might encounter. His face was nearly as white as the snow, and he had his hands tucked under his arms for warmth. " _L-Lalli..._ " he breathed, his voice shaking along with the rest of his body.

Lalli thought wildly of throwing his own jacket around the other boy, but what would it help? The light scout jacket had no sleeves anyway, and probably wouldn't even close around Emil's bulkier body. He crossed his own arms over his chest, mirroring Emil's posture as though he were the one who needed to cling to himself to keep warm. Or as if he needed to hold himself back from running at the Swede and doing--what? He didn't even know what he wanted to do. Hit him. Hug him. Strangle him.

" _Lalli._ _Jag är ledsen."_

Lalli knew that word. He'd heard it when Emil had made that terrible face at him once. He'd thought that it meant sad. Emil was sad?

He shook his head. He remembered another word from that day: angry. " _Jag är arg," _he threw back. "You didn't believe me, did you? You thought you'd play your little trick and prove us all wrong. You think you know everything, when you know nothing about the world we live in. You live in your city in your safe, little cozy life, and you just don't know." He realized he was speaking in Finnish. He didn't have a choice. He couldn't say any of this in Swedish. Why wasn't there any spell that could make Emil understand him? With all the gifts he had inherited from his parents, he had never felt more powerless.

"You don't know what it is I'm stuck dealing with, and you can't even help me. No one here can help me. But if I fail, then you all _die_. And yet you-- _you_. You never even believed in me. I tried to tell you. I actually tried, and you thought it was all just a joke!"

Lalli felt his spirit roiling in the air around his body. He could see the blue haze all around his vision and knew that his eyes would appear to be glowing to Emil. He didn't try to stop it, and Emil didn't flinch away or let himself react. Instead of feeling proud of his Swede for showing some spine, though, the silent acknowledgement only made Lalli more angry.  


"Look at you. You come running out here without any preparation. Who could ever depend on someone like that? Aren't you feeling cold? _Kallt, Emil?_ " he asked, knowing the answer already. Obviously Emil was cold. Lalli's voice cracked out again as he called on the sun to shine down on them, pouring into the cry the fear he had felt when he had thought of a Emil alone in the woods and his anger at being unable to express any of what he really wanted to say. The heavy snow clouds overhead parted and broke apart as though a great gust had thrown them apart, though the air was still around them.

Bright shafts of sunlight shot down through the trees to fall on the two of them. Emil blinked up at the brilliant sky overhead, not taking his hands from his armpits even to shade his eyes. He looked mutely back at Lalli. " _Jag är ledsen, " _he repeated.

Lalli called the wind back to him, blasting Emil in the face with a warm blast of air. Through his own flapping hair, Lalli could see Emil wincing, closing his eyes against the dry wind bombarding his face. If Onni knew that Lalli was wasting magic on something like this, his punishment wouldn't have been measured in days but months. Possibly years. But Onni wasn't here, which was exactly the problem.

" _Jag är magiker, Emil!"_ he snapped over the sound of the wind, as if he weren't making that plenty clear already. The wind pushed Emil back a few steps, making him stumble. "This is what a mage does, do you see? This is the job that killed my grandmother. It took my parents. It takes everyone. It is not a joke. _F_ _örstår du?_ "

" _Jag förstår!_" Emil shouted back, claiming that he understood. As if he could. But all of the important words were still standing between them, untranslated and unheard. Emil had his arms up protecting his face and he was struggling to push against the wind and step forward.

Watching the Swede fall to his knees again, Lalli's own shame at what he was doing dampened his anger where Emil's words had failed to. He let the wind die and Emil pitched forward when the pressure that had been holding him back suddenly disappeared. Then he scrambled up and across the remaining distance between them. Once he reached Lalli, he threw his arms around him, as if afraid that Lalli might disappear--or send him flying again if he didn't have a hold on him.

" _J ag förstår,_ _"_ Emil was saying into Lalli's ear, his breath hot on the side of his face. " _Du_ _är magiker, Lalli._ _Jag f örstår det. Jag är ledsen. Jag är så ledsen."_

_"Vad betyder 'ledsen'?"_ Lalli asked flatly, wanting to be sure that he understood this word at least. It had been the first thing Emil had tried to say to him that morning. It was important that he knew exactly what it meant.  


" _Man säger ledsen_ _när.._." Emil paused, still with his face buried in Lalli's hair. Lalli could practically feel him thinking up a way to simply explain in their limited shared vocabulary. " _När man har gjort ett misstag. Jag gjorde ett misstag._ "

_Misstag?_ He had heard that before. He had heard it several times before and he had remembered it at once because it was such a hateful word. _Mistake._ One says _ledsen_ when they make a mistake. Emil had made a mistake. Was he trying to apologize? Was that the true meaning of _ledsen_ and the sad face Lalli had seen that day?  He was sorry?  


Emil squeezed his arms tighter around him, and there was so little to get in the way when Lalli wore only his light scouting uniform and Emil was without his usual thick jacket. " _Tack för solen. Jag frös."_

Lalli felt a bizarre urge to snort. Emil was thanking him for the sun. He had just abused his magic for the most childish of reasons, and Emil was thanking him. But Lalli didn't laugh. Instead, he began to forgive Emil.  


It hadn't really been a shock to him when Reynir had passed on the message before stepping out of his private dream space. Lalli had more or less known that Emil didn't believe in magic or spirits. He had seen every doubtful look and every indulgent smile tinged with scorn. As soon as he had heard the message, Lalli had understood that Emil had meant it to be a test: to prove that mages didn't truly share dreams. Being confronted with it had only confirmed what Lalli had already noticed. But it had still hurt. All the more so when it came right after he'd realized how much danger they were in and how alone he was in facing it.

Even among his own people, some of the normal civilians and warriors doubted the mages. Most recognized that the mages had some skill to detect beasts, but there were always those who thought that the mages oversold their own powers to make themselves seem more important. There were always some who resented the mages' gifts. But Lalli would have happily given his gifts away, he'd thought many times as a boy. He'd envied Tuuri, for being born without enough power to have to undergo training under their grandmother. She'd been free to become whatever she wanted. Not so for him or Onni.

" _Lalli?"_ Emil's hesitant voice brought him back to the present. " _Säg något. Snälla._ "

Even if Emil asked, Lalli didn't know what he could say. He settled on telling Emil what he was feeling, even if the boy would never be able to understand it. "I don't like what you did," Lalli began slowly. "But I think I understand why you did it. Maybe if we could actually talk, things would be different. Maybe you would have actually believed me. Maybe you would be able to help somehow..." He trailed off, realizing how much he wanted that now that he had said it. His language lessons had begun as a way to humor the Swede and make his job easier. Now he wanted more than that. He wanted more than to be able to tell the crew when there was danger.

" _Lalli. Säg något jag kan förstå."_

_Say something he could understand?_ Emil's dry plea did make him snort this time, and he could feel Emil's breathy laugh against his neck.

" _Jag..."_ Lalli struggled to think of anything he could say with the words he knew. " _Jag förstår. Jag förstår...varför  du...gjort det."_  


_"Gjorde,"_ Emil corrected him without seeming to be able to help himself. Lalli kicked him in the shin, but only a little.  


" _Aj! Förbannade Finn."_ Emil grumbled the words, but still neither of them had moved apart since Emil had first caught Lalli. Lalli wasn't complaining either. While he didn't like being touched by others without invitation, he'd gotten used to Emil doing it. There hadn't been much choice, when Emil was the one decontaminating him each night. And more recently Emil had taken to hugs like this. It was familiar now, like a snug jacket that wrapped Lalli up in warmth and Lalli didn't have to do a thing.

" _Lalli, jag är verkligen ledsen. Jag trodde inte att..."_ Emil shook his head, his face rubbing in Lalli's hair. _"Tja, jag tror inte det igenom. Jag tänkte inte på hur du skulle känna. Jag har aldrig trott att magi kan vara riktiga. Jag kan fortfarande inte tro det, faktiskt. Men vad du gjorde ... Det var fantastiskt, Lalli. Du är fantastisk."_

Lalli felt Emil's lips brush against the side of his neck with a sudden jolt. He hadn't understand half of what Emil had said, but he understood the touch, unexpected though it was. _Is that what this is all about?_ As the thought crossed his mind, he wondered if he had missed something yet again. He'd never imagined that kissing was what Emil was after, but clearly he had misinterpreted the Swede's attention.

Lalli knew about kissing. It was another one of those things that other people did and that he didn't really understand why. When he had been sixteen, one of the girl scouts--one of the the very few that there were in Keuruu--had spent several weeks dragging him behind the barracks whenever she had gotten the chance. She had kissed him on the mouth and neck, sometimes running her hands up under the back of his jacket to find dry, warm skin. He hadn't known why she started or why she later stopped, and neither had bothered him much. They'd never said more than a dozen words to each other during the whole episode. And while the kissing had felt interesting, it hadn't been so amazing that he'd been tempted to try it again with anyone else. Until now.

He turned his head to the side, his face sliding across Emil's cheek as he moved to catch Emil's lips with his own. The kiss was brief, but he felt a tingling excitement that he didn't remember from when he was sixteen. Perhaps he'd forgotten. Emil's mouth was soft beneath his for an instant--and then it was gone. The Swede jerked back, finally releasing Lalli so that he could back away looking as though he'd been poleaxed.  


_Fan_ , Lalli thought, using the word he'd heard Emil mutter so many times. That had been wrong. He'd made a mistake. He didn't let any of his confusion show, though, since Emil already looked terrified enough. They looked at one another for a few moments that felt like hours to Lalli, then he turned away with his blank expression still intact and said, " _Kom._ "

 

 

Lalli had gotten at least ten paces ahead of him before Emil had enough control over his body to force his feet moving. He followed the Finn warily, relieved when he spotted the road up ahead of them. He didn't know where he'd been expecting Lalli to lead him, but he frankly did not know what to expect out of Lalli at all at the moment.

_ He kissed me. Lalli kissed me. That was what that was, right? There's no other way to interpret that. He didn't fall over and land on my mouth. He purposefully kissed me_ .

Now that Lalli's back was to him as the scout led him back to the tank, Emil lifted one hand to touch his lips. He'd kissed a few girls in his time, but never a boy. He'd heard tales, of course. It was the sort of thing that boys at school liked to regale one another with: each one trying to act more worldly and experienced than the other. So stories had reached him about the Finns and their "mages," and what it was that they supposedly got up to with one another. It had never occurred to him that it might be true--or that it might be true of Lalli.

_ And Lalli thought that I...  _ Emil's mouth felt dry. He'd never even considered the idea, but if Lalli was _like that_ , then it might be Emil's fault that he'd misunderstood things. He'd been the one hugging Lalli. And not just this morning, either. Thinking back on it now, he despaired to himself. Why had he hung on to Lalli anyway? He didn't know. There wasn't any reason in his mind. It had simply been natural to do so. And then he'd been groveling and telling Lalli about how amazing his magic was and how amazing he was, and his mouth had brushed against Lalli's skin and...  


Emil burned flame red. _Oh my god. I did that, didn't I? This is all my fault!_

He hadn't even really noticed when he'd done it. He had buried his face in Lalli's hair, ducked into the large hood that hung down the scout's back, and it had just happened. He hadn't been trying to do it! But if Lalli had thought that he was doing it on purpose, then no wonder he'd thought that a kiss might be the next logical step. _You stupid, stupid idiot, Emil!_

Emil's mouth opened to say something, but then he slammed it shut. What would he say? That it had been a mistake? That he was sorry? Would that just make Lalli feel worse? He was probably already embarrassed. He hadn't made a move after Emil had pulled away. Maybe they were just going to pretend it had never happened. Yes, that would be for the best. They couldn't possibly discuss it in their shared Swedish and it was _not_ something that he wanted to ask Tuuri to interpret about.

They would pretend it had never happened. Emil would forget it had ever happened. Everything would go back to normal. It was just fine. Everything was fine.

 

 

Emil lay in his bunk that night, unable to sleep. He wasn't used to trying to sleep so early. But he had claimed that he was feeling rundown and had switched his first night shift with Mikkel, leaving the Dane in charge of Lalli's decontamination that night.

_You pathetic coward,_ he railed against himself, turning his face into his pillow and hitting the mattress with one fist. He'd told himself that he would act like everything was normal. That had been the plan. And he'd mostly succeeded during the day. After Lalli had gotten him back to the tank, the scout had pulled up his hood, nodded briefly, and loped back down the road to begin his real scouting.  


All that day Lalli had checked in regularly, as he was supposed to. The first time he'd come back with a rabbit, Emil had held open the foraging bag, which he had picked up when he had finally got his jacket and gloves from the tank. They'd said very little to each other during Lalli's check-ins and even less during lunch and dinner. But the final test had come when night had fallen and the rest of the crew began to turn in for the night. Emil thought of being absolutely alone in the dark with Lalli and of helping wash down Lalli's thin body--and he'd panicked.  


When he had asked Mikkel to take over for him, the Dane had given him a knowing look. Just as he had when there had been nothing to spruce up their breakfast that morning. There was no way that Mikkel could actually know what had happened. Never in a million years. But he at least did know that Emil was obviously avoiding Lalli for some reason.

A familiar noise started up. It sounded a bit different from within the tank but he still recognized the sound of the hose shooting out the freezing cold water from the reservoir tank. Some moments later, a door opened and Emil listened as Mikkel must have put Lalli's clothes into the UV chamber. It was a surprisingly short time before the door opened again and Emil heard light feet on the metal floor of the tank.

Emil held himself perfectly still, his face still mashed into his pillow. He heard Lalli pause for a moment at the entrance to the sleeping chamber, then pad past to step over Reynir and slide himself under the lowest bunk, tucking himself into the dark cavern he usually slept in. Emil's heart pounded so loud that he thought it must be audible. He had thought he would have more time to prepare himself. Lalli normally spent ages in the bath, until the water was going cold. But today he must have done no more than quickly wash and rinse before leaping out of the tub and into his clothes.

Amid the breathing of the three other members of the crew who were already asleep, Emil couldn't pick out the sounds of Lalli's breaths to try to guess whether he was asleep or not. He heard some thumping outside the tank, as Mikkel dumped out the tub and put the last of the equipment away. Then the door opened once more and Mikkel quietly woke Sigrun before preparing himself for bed. Sigrun muttered a few curses as she fumbled her way to the front of the tank for her shift. She would come back the same way to wake Emil in less than six hours. And he still hadn't gotten a wink of sleep.

_ It'll be fine. Everything is just fine. It'll be totally normal in no time,  _ he told himself. And then bashed his face into his pillow again because even he didn't believe himself.

 

 

The next morning, watching the sun rise with bleary red eyes, Emil heard the tank door open behind him and he jumped. He'd been half-asleep, exhaustion taking over after his sleepless night. The early morning shift had left him alone with entirely too much time to think over and over about what had happened. And now here was Lalli himself, looking a bit wan as he slipped from the tank and eased the door shut behind himself.

" _Hej,_ " Emil said in what he hoped was a normal voice.

Lalli gave him a brief nod and began to walk away. Then he stopped. He half turned, looking off into the orange, early-morning sun. He spoke in its direction as he said. " _Jag gjorde misstag."_ He glanced at Emil and there seemed to be a faint smile on his face, though it was sometimes so hard to tell with Lalli. " _Du sover. Du är trött. "_

And then he was gone, and Emil was left sitting alone on his camp stool. And feeling, though he didn't understand why, more miserable than ever.  



	13. Lesson 13

**Lesson 13**

Lalli trudged through the wet field, his high boots thankfully keeping his feet and legs dry. The sun he'd summoned the day before had continued to burn brightly and it had melted away the snow he'd been stomping through the previous morning. Rain had fallen instead during the night, and now the fields of fading grasses were simply wet and miserable. Snow might have been better. Snow made the tracks of beasts or prey unmistakable. But Lalli could work in this mess as well.

 _A mess._ Yes, that was what he had created. Things were now more awkward between him and Emil than they ever had been. Lalli was used to feeling awkward with other people, but for some reason things had always been easier with Emil. He'd forced himself upon Lalli from the start, never seeming deterred for long by Lalli's silences or moods. He'd been the closest thing to a friend that Lalli had ever known. But now Emil would barely look him in the eye. _I made a mistake,_ Lalli thought to himself, repeating the same words he'd said to Emil.

 _Maybe it's better this way_ , he thought as his careless stomping startled a bird from the tall grasses. The pheasant took flight, the pale undersides of its wings flashing against the merciless blue sky. Lalli pulled his rifle around and trained his sights on the fleeing bird, then pulled the trigger. It fell back to the ground. _I need to focus now more than ever._ And he was doing a terrible job of it this morning. He wasn't even trying to hide his presence. Part of him even hoped that some beast _would_ attack him so that he would be forced out of his own dark thoughts and into action.

He had to put the mess with Emil out of his mind. This is why he had decided from the start not to get involved with any of the other crew members. He could work alongside Sigrun and Emil just fine as a part of the retrieval unit without needing to know anything about either of them besides how they would react to danger. They were all professionals and that was all they needed from one another. What he needed to think about now was how to deal with the threat that was stalking them. Instead he had spent most of the previous day thinking about his relationship with the Swedish cleanser.

 _Maybe Tuuri can set up the radio thing again so I can ask Onni more_ , Lalli thought as he walked across the field to retrieve the dead bird. It was sprawled in a bed of bent grasses, one beady yellow eye staring up at him unseeing. The blue-black feathers of its neck gleamed in the golden morning light as Lalli knelt down beside it. He offered up a silent prayer, plucking one striped feather and holding it up for the breeze he summoned to pull it from his fingers and carry it away. It spiraled up into the sky until it was too small to be seen any longer, and then it was gone.

 

 

Emil felt a wave of relief when he saw Lalli walking back to the tank with a large bird hanging from one hand. He'd heard the gunshot five minutes before, and then nothing else. It had been the first time that he'd heard Lalli fire his rifle since the run-in with the giants and the sudden crack of gunfire in the quiet morning had left Emil feeling sick. He might not know how to face the Finn at the moment, but he certainly didn't want him dead. And since Lalli normally depended on his knives to dispatch the small animals he brought back to the tank, the thought of what might have caused him to pull his rifle had left Emil's hands sweating in his gloves.

Once the worry was gone, though, Emil was left only with his own self-consciousness once again. He busied himself with pulling the foraging bag from his shoulder and fiddling with the ties to get it open, as if he were having more difficulty than he really was. It kept him from having to look at Lalli as the scout approached or try to figure out what kind of face he should make.

Lalli stopped a few feet from him and tossed the dead bird his way. Emil fumbled to catch it, unnerved by the way that the long wings flopped about. He still wasn't as used to handling dead things as Lalli or Mikkel or Sigrun. He had to swallow down a nauseous lump in his throat as he tried to slip the thing into the bag as gently as he could--as if it could still feel anything at all. " _J-jätte bra_ ," he stammered. " _Mikkel ska älska dig för den här._ " He tongue nearly tripped over the word  _älska._ _Mikkel will love you for this._ Why had he said love? He shouldn't have said that.

 _It's fine,_ he tried to tell himself, even as he felt like the most thoughtless clod in the world. _Lalli doesn't even know the word. I've never used it before. At least I don't think I have._ He offered up a nervous smile and Lalli's blank expression didn't even flicker. The scout nodded without a word, then he turned around and slowly walked away.

 

 

It wasn't until lunch that Emil realized what was happening. Lalli had come back at all his regular intervals, sometimes bearing food but mostly just to check that the tank was still where he expected it to be. Once he had gestured Tuuri out of the tank and spoken with her briefly in Finnish. Other than that, he had not said a word. Emil hadn't noticed at first that everything he said to Lalli was answered with a nod or a shrug, but after several hours it had become clear. Lalli was not speaking Swedish to him any longer.

As they stood around the cook stove to get a bowl of slop from Mikkel, Emil tried asking Lalli about how his scouting was going. All he got in return were non-committal shrugs. Then Lalli walked away to go sit by himself amid the tall grasses of the overgrown field they'd stopped in. Emil was left standing on his own among the crew, who had already fallen into their own usual pairings and comfortable conversations. He looked around the ragged circle of chairs before going back to drop onto his camp chair alone and poke at his food.

When they stopped for dinner, Mikkel took the time to finally roast the pheasant that Lalli had brought down that morning. They hadn't stopped long enough at lunch to properly cook the large bird, but hardly any time after they'd found their campsite for the night, the tantalizing smell of cooking meat filled the evening air. Lalli had come back from his last day scouting of the day and wouldn't head out for his night scouting until after the meal. Emil watched as he joined Mikkel and Tuuri. Tuuri was wearing her facemask and standing by as Mikkel sprayed Lalli down with the anti-microbial spray that they used for quick decontamination. Then the two Finns disappeared into the tank.

Curious and feeling slightly left-out, Emil wandered over to the tank to see what was going on. He found Lalli seated at the large radio unit in the control room--as Emil thought of the small office where Tuuri and Mikkel often poured over books. Tuuri was hovering behind her cousin, as he talked into the radio in a quiet, serious tone.

Emil watched Lalli's face as he carried on a discussion with whoever was on the other end of the line. The other boy's expression shifted as he talked, the steady stream of Finnish giving Emil no hint of what was being said. It was like when he'd seen Lalli report about the giants he'd encountered. Here was a Lalli that Emil didn't know--couldn't know--but he still wanted to, despite whatever was going on between them. He wanted to be able to have this kind of real conversation with Lalli, not a few words haltingly exchanged and every interaction limited by a tiny pool of shared vocabulary. Maybe then they could get over this awkwardness.

He couldn't blame Lalli, who had done eons better learning Swedish than Emil himself had ever done with Icelandic. The scout had memorized every single word or phrase that Emil had tried to teach him, as far as he could tell. But hearing Lalli rattling off sentence after sentence in his native tongue made it obvious again how far they still had to go.

Lalli was listening now to whatever the other person was saying and Emil noticed for the first time that the Finn looked unhappy. He remembered thinking that Lalli looked pale that morning, and he'd certainly been withdrawn the entire day. He had kept his usual blank expression on his face like it was some kind of armor, but now he definitely looked unhappy.

 _What if he's telling them about what happened?_ The idea made Emil flush with embarrassment and guilt once again. He'd led Lalli on, even if he hadn't meant to, and what if everyone learned what had happened in those woods--even his aunt and uncle! It seemed like a nightmare. Then a worse thought occurred to Emil. _What if he's telling them that he can't work in these conditions any longer and that he wants to go back home?_

Emil turned to Tuuri. "What is he talking about?" he asked abruptly, though trying to be quiet enough to not interrupt Lalli's conversation.

Tuuri looked at him in surprise, as if she hadn't even noticed he was there beside her. "Emil! Oh. Uh, mage stuff, I suppose." She looked faintly worried, her eyebrows beetling together beneath her fringe of short hair.

The words took a moment to sink in. Emil had been so confounded by Lalli kissing him that he had almost entirely forgotten what had happened before it. _That's right. Lalli actually got my message from the scruffy Icelander. He blew away every cloud in the sky. He nearly blew me off my feet._ The shock of his friend kissing him had completely eclipsed the revelation that magic was real and Lalli could actually use it.

Emil struggled to remember what happened before the kiss. Lalli had been shouting a bunch of Finnish at him, he remembered. He had no idea what any of it had meant, but Lalli had seemed angry and upset and more desperate than Emil had ever seen him. How had he forgotten about that?

"What kind of mage stuff? What's going on?" he pressed Tuuri. Now he was thinking back on how this whole mess had begun: Reynir had said he wanted to talk to Lalli about "mage stuff," and Lalli had reluctantly agreed. Emil had been too busy thinking about how he would prove that there was no such thing as magical dream conversations to ever consider what the two might have to talk about.

"I...I don't know." Tuuri was watching her cousin with a frown. "It doesn't sound good." She listened for a moment, then asked Lalli a question in Finnish. He waved her silent with a hand, pressing the other one tighter against the earphones on his head so that he didn't miss any of what was being said on the line. "It seems like it's about those spirits that attacked us in Copenhagen. I-I thought they were gone, but Lalli says that they seem to be following us." She shivered and looked up at Emil. "He says that he needs to know how to attack them, not just how to keep them away. He..." She listened to Lalli for a moment as he spoke urgently into radio, as though trying to convince the listener of something. "He says that they attacked him even in his own dreams last time and that--that he couldn't do anything to stop them."

Emil hadn't forgotten the terrible way that Lalli had screamed that night, clutching at him as though he were being tortured somehow. There'd been so much going on that he hadn't thought about why Lalli was screaming. They had all been screaming. The cat had been yowling, Reynir had been going on about something in Icelandic, and Tuuri had been shrieking "We're all going to die!" as she drove pell-mell through the ancient city streets.

Was this what Lalli had been trying to tell him about the day before? Had he been trying to tell Emil that he was wrestling with some real threat? And all the while Emil had been thinking that the whole mage thing was just a joke. Emil wanted to slap himself. How had he really believed that? How had he managed to go on believing that magic was just an excuse for savage nations to avoid technology when he'd been in the middle of some kind of magical attack himself? He'd felt the terror that night, even if he couldn't see what was causing it. It had been like thousand bees buzzing inside his skull, drowning out the world and turning his vision black as his head threatened to explode from the pressure. He had to be the biggest idiot in all the known world. And the worst friend.

Lalli suddenly yanked the earphones from his head and turned to Tuuri, telling her something in their language. She seemed taken aback, but she responded and then began to follow Lalli when he strode out of the tank. Emil caught her arm. "What is it?"

"He says he has to talk to Reynir," she said, though her voice told him that she had no idea why. Emil followed the two Hotakainens back out of the tank and stood like a useless third wheel as Tuuri interpreted between Finnish and Icelandic, both languages that he didn't understand a lick of. Reynir looked surprised and then delighted by whatever Tuuri was saying, nodding eagerly and beaming at Lalli. Lalli, Emil was pleased to note, narrowed his eyes in warning at the redheaded lunk. Then Lalli turned and walked away.

Emil went after him as Lalli headed down the road, as if he meant to leave the camp. Emil knew him well enough, or at least thought that he did, to recognize that Lalli wanted to be alone. But Emil couldn't let him go this time. He had to apologize again. He had to find a way to fix things before this went on any longer.

" _Lalli!_ " He called out, wondering why the scout seemed able to cover ground so much quicker than him. They were nearly the same height, but Lalli's long legs simply ate up the ground. " _Lalli, vänta!_ "

"Emil, give it up," said Tuuri from a few feet behind him, practically jogging to keep up with the two boys. "He doesn't understand. We can talk to him later."

"No!" Emil snapped over his shoulder, nearly as surprised by his own stubbornness as Tuuri looked to be. "He understands. He's just ignoring me, but I won't be ignored!"

" _Lalli! Lalli, sluta! Vi måste prata!_ "

And Lalli did stop, but only long enough to say, " _Nej. Vi måste inte."_

Then he was off like a shot, running in that effortless way of his that made it look easier than walking did for most people. Emil stopped and Tuuri nearly ran into him. There was no way he could catch Lalli when he ran. Eventually he would come back for dinner. Emil would corner him then.

"Did..." Tuuri looked up at him with round eyes. "Did Lalli just speak Swedish?"


	14. Lesson 14

**Lesson 14**

Emil waited beside the fire alone. Lalli hadn't come back for dinner after all, despite all of Tuuri's reassurances. She'd insisted that Lalli would return before they sat down to eat. Then she'd insisted that he would be back before they finished cleaning up the dishes. Then she'd said he would surely come back before they turned in for the night. As they'd been filing into the tank, Emil had heard Tuuri assuring Sigrun that he would come crawling back home to the tank once he was hungry enough.

He’d had to deal with Tuuri’s questions, of course, before the girl had gone in for the night. He had felt insulted on Lalli’s behalf by how utterly dumbfounded she was to realize that her cousin had learned even the simplest Swedish phrases. How many dozens of times had he and Lalli walked and talked just meters in front of the windshield she was peering out of? How many meals had they all shared around the stove, and she had never noticed that Emil was not simply talking _at_ with Lalli but that Lalli spoke back?

Tuuri was the only person on the expedition that Lalli should have been able to turn to, and she hadn’t even noticed what he was doing every day for the past two weeks. It made Emil all the more certain that he needed to fix things with the scout. He might be the only one Lalli really had. Maybe Reynir was some kind of mage, too, but he obviously didn’t understand Lalli like Emil did.

At least Sigrun hadn't threatened to put Lalli on her list of possible mutineers for disappearing for hours without reporting in. It seemed Lalli would be able to keep his spot in her good books for some time, thanks to the juicy pheasant that they'd all ate their fill of for dinner that night.

Emil had managed to keep some of the pheasant for Lalli, sandwiched between two plates and placed beside the fire to keep it at least a bit warmer than the chill night air. Now he just needed Lalli to come back. All of Emil's thoughts about avoiding the scout had disappeared. It seemed stupid now that he'd even run away from facing Lalli the previous night. His confusion had disappeared once he'd realized what he needed to do. Lalli was his friend and he was troubled about something, and Emil was going to be the best friend to him possible. He'd see.

"La-a-alli..." he sang out softly into the night. The scout was later than he usually was in returning for the night, and Emil couldn't help thinking that it might be because Lalli was now avoiding him as much as he'd been avoiding Lalli the night before. But Emil wasn't entirely sure why.

Lalli had been acting quite normal for a whole day even after the kiss, while Emil had been the one being a tit. So maybe Lalli had been disgusted with Emil for taking the coward's way out the night before. He hadn't seemed mad, though, when Emil had seen him leave first thing in the morning. He'd talked to Emil then. He'd even been gentle, telling Emil to get some sleep. But sometime between that moment and his first return to the tank, something had changed in Lalli’s mind.

 _Jag gjorde misstag._ That was what Lalli had told him the last time he had spoken normally to Emil. What if he hadn’t meant the kiss? What if he had meant that being Emil’s friend had been the mistake?

The Swede shook his head. Sometimes he thought that he would never understand what went on inside that head of Lalli's, language barrier or no. He called out to the empty clearing, "Lalli, if you're out there, just come back. You're not going to outwait me. I can't go in until you've been decontaminated, so you're just going to have to deal with me."

He wondered if Lalli would seriously consider staying outside all night just to snub him. He did have a definite stubborn streak--but then so did Emil. "Lalli, I'm wai-i-iting," he sang annoyingly, still keeping his voice soft enough that no one in the tank--and no beasts in the area--would hopefully notice. "La-a-alli," he called again, then followed it with, " _Lilla Lalli låg på hylla. Lilla Lalli trilla ner. Ingen man i detta land laga lilla Lalli kan._ " Lalli's name fit well in the old children's song, and he grinned to himself.

" _Sluta."_ The demand came out of the darkness and he spotted Lalli standing on the edge of the firelight. He did stop, since Lalli had bothered to ask in Swedish.

" _Hej_." He stood up and took a step away from the fire and closer to the scout. " _Jag är glad att du är tillbaka._ _"_

And he really was glad. He could put the whole kissing incident behind him if Lalli could. Being Lalli's friend was more important to him than that.

Lalli walked past him to the fire, holding his hands out over the warm flames. He'd been out for hours and must have been chilled to the bone. Emil picked up the dish of pheasant, removing the top plate to present it to Lalli. He watched the Finn hesitate, as though he didn't want to accept the gesture from Emil, but in the end he took food.

He moved to grab a piece of the meat, and Emil snatched the plate back. "Wait. Take off your gloves at least. I know you're immune, but still... Who knows what you touched out there?" His shudder wasn't entirely exaggerated.

Lalli blinked several times at his suddenly empty hands, his face shifting into a frown of annoyance. "Your gloves," Emil repeated slowly, pointing to Lalli's hands with his chin. "Take off your gloves." It seemed to do the trick, because Lalli started tugging his long gloves down his arms. When his hands were bare, he held one out expectantly and Emil put the plate back in it. Then he bent over to snatch up the gloves that Lalli had dropped on the ground and place them in the clear plastic decontamination bag.

When Emil looked up again, Lalli's cheeks were stuffed with pheasant and he was staring blankly into the fire. Emil jumped on the chance and said, "Lalli, look. I want to say that I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't believe you. I'm sorry I didn't understand what you were going through. And I'm sorry about how I've been acting these past two days. I want to be here for you. We're friends, aren't we? I want to help, if I can." He said all this slowly and deliberately. He knew Lalli wouldn't understand all of it, but he should understand about half. Hopefully that half was enough.

Lalli had stopped chewing, but he didn't reply. "Will you say something?" Emil asked desperately.

Lalli's didn't move for several seconds. Then he began to chew again. After he had probably reduced the pheasant to a fine paste, given how long he spent chewing instead of answering, he finally swallowed and said, " _Kanske._ " It was the word for _maybe_ that Emil had taught him two days before. It was the most positive thing Lalli had said to him in twelve hours.

" _Tack,_ " he said in a weak voice. " _Tack, Lalli."_ He wanted to throw his arms around the thin scout and hug him in relief. But he held himself back. It would be cruel, wouldn't it? Lalli obviously had some kind of non-platonic interest in him and he shouldn’t do anything that would make things harder for him. He thought back to the crushes he'd had when he'd been younger. What if one of those girls had constantly thrown her arms around him, and meant nothing at all by it?

Actually, he realized, if a girl he'd liked had done that, he would have been thrilled. Who cared if she meant it or not? It would've felt just as good when her body was pressed up against his. He would have taken the memory out at night and relived it over and over again, until it was so worn that it ended up more fantasy than real memory. Emil reconsidered hugging Lalli. Would it be a kindness or cruelty? While he stood agonizing over the idea, Lalli ate every last scrap of pheasant from the plate.

" _Sanering,"_ Lalli said, putting the plate down. Emil surfaced back into reality, leaving all the confusing possibilities in his mind to sort through later. Decontamination he could do. He would show Lalli how dependable he was. He grabbed up the clothes bag so that Lalli could drop his jacket into it. While Lalli sat on a stool to tug off his long boots, Emil dumped the latest large kettle of water into the tub to bring the water up to nearly scalding temperature. Then he turned around in time to see Lalli tugging his shirt over his head.

He had seen Lalli naked a dozen times. It meant nothing to him—or it never had before. And yet this time his mouth went dry when he watched that flat stomach twisting as Lalli pulled his tight undershirt off. He looked away when Lalli stepped out of his trousers. An impatient grunt forced him to turn back and he saw Lalli holding out his clothes for Emil to take them, goosebumps already rising on every inch of his bare skin. Which was every inch of him. Because every last inch of him was bare.

Emil swallowed hard as he held out the bag for Lalli to drop the clothes into it. He stalked away as quickly as he could, and snatched up the hose from where it hung off the side of the tank. Wrenching the water on with more force than he really needed, the hose sprang to life, a powerful jet striking the ground and sending up a spray of water that he could feel soaking through his own pant legs. Cursing under his breath, he turned the water on Lalli, spraying him down as quickly as he could. Every thought of being helpful and showing Lallli what a great friend he was had been forgotten.

He didn't understand his own reaction. He had been completely fine. He hadn't been feeling nervous about meeting Lalli like he had been the night before. He'd actually been eager for the scout to come back, so that he could straighten things out between them. So why should seeing Lalli naked make his heart start racing? He was quite sure that seeing Mikkel or Reynir naked wouldn't make his pulse race. Even seeing Sigrun or Tuuri naked would probably make him more flustered than anything. Why should one unwanted kiss have changed his own reaction to Lalli? It made no sense.

When Lalli scampered away to slip into the steaming tub of water, Emil turned back to the tank gratefully. He switched off the hose, then stood for a moment with his head hanging down. That had been the worst part, surely, and it was over. Now Lalli was tucked in the nice, shadowy tub, and Emil didn't have to worry about his eyes wandering anywhere. It was time to put the plan back into action. He grabbed the bottle of soap and squatted down behind the tub, tipping some of the thick liquid into his hand automatically before he even bothered to glance up.

Lalli was faced away from him, and all Emil could see was his silvery wet hair, one ear poking out from between the strands, and the angled plane of his left cheek. The sheen of water made the bones of his thin frame even more obvious than usual, the firelight glimmering off his wet skin where it hit and leaving dark shadows in the hollows between his collarbones.

Emil shook himself. He'd decided that he was over the whole kiss incident. He was going to _fix_ things with Lalli, not be all weird about things. Nothing needed to change. Then Lalli turned to glance at him questioningly, his grey eyes looking nearly black in the low light, and Emil's stomach dropped down somewhere below his knees.

Maybe, just maybe, some things were going to have to change.

 

 

Lalli waited for Emil to either help with his hair or give him the soap to do it himself, but neither happened. Finally he turned to look at the Swede and found Emil with an odd expression on his face, his cupped hand already full of soap but hanging motionless in the air. Lalli turned back with a shrug, waiting for him to get on with things.

He wondered if this could all still be because of that one kiss in the woods. He'd realized immediately that it was a mistake, but he would have thought a lot harder before doing it if he had known just what a big deal it apparently was. Kissing must be another one of those things that meant more to some people than it did to him. Like social niceties or acting like a proper adult. That was what one of the senior scouts used to always tell him to do whenever he sat with his feet on his chair and his chin tucked into his knees. Act like a proper adult.

Emil had been acting almost normal when he'd first come back, and Lalli had felt his resolve wavering. He'd spent the whole day convincing himself that he and Emil's little experiment in cross-cultural understanding was finished. He'd even done his best to discourage Emil by refusing to answer any of his questions all day. Yet Emil had been back to his usual self, drawing Lalli in again with his nervy smiles and that awkward, relentless cheer.

Then Emil had hit him with a pile of apologies to top it all off. Lalli liked it when Emil apologized to him. Normally Lalli was the one who felt like he needed to apologize for something, though he rarely understood what for. It was just that every time he spoke to other people, they seemed to end up with the same troubled look on their faces. And every time that Emil spoke to other people, he seemed to put his own foot in his mouth. Lalli had liked that about him. He had liked seeing that someone as friendly and bold as Emil could be just as hopeless as he was sometimes.

Now he didn’t know what to do. Keep discouraging Emil? Let things go back to normal? Kiss Emil again and bring everything crashing down once and for all? He had been waiting out of sight for more than a half hour before he'd finally returned to the tank, hoping the whole time that Emil would just go away and save him from having to decide. Maybe he _should_ just kiss Emil again. It had felt nice—better than he’d remembered—and then Emil would leave him in peace. Surely Emil would run away and hide again if Lalli grabbed him and kissed him right now.

 _Not that most people seem to use kissing as a way to get rid of people_ _._ Even he knew that much. _Why does dealing with other people always have to be such a hassle_?

He sank down further into the water with a sigh. He wished he was back at home, where all he had to do was be a night scout and never talk with anyone he didn't want to. Which mostly meant anyone other than Onni. And Tuuri, he supposed. If he were back home, he wouldn't have to think about other people's incomprehensible _feelings_ , let alone why he was being stalked by angry spirits that he didn’t know if he could stop.

Emil's hands finally passed over his head lightly, then more firmly as he worked the soap into Lalli's hair till it formed a thick lather. Lalli relaxed into that familiar touch with another sigh. Decisions could wait. This right now felt good, and that was reason enough for Lalli to let it continue.

" _Är du orolig?_ _"_ Emil asked, his voice breaking through the silence.

" _Vad betyder 'orolig'?"_ Lalli asked back, forgetting that he was perhaps ignoring Emil. Or perhaps not.

Emil made a noise in his throat, then finally said, " _När du tror att något dåligt kommer._ _"_

Lalli lifted his eyebrows. " _Vad betyder 'tror'?"_ he asked next, feeling like they were going in circles. But the fingers massaging his scalp were so nice that he was willing to put up with it as long as Emil didn’t stop.

" _Tror..."_ Emil said thoughtfully. " _Vad du gör här. I ditt huvud._ _"_ He tapped on Lalli's temple gently. _What you do in your head._ _Thinking._

" _Orolig?"_ he prompted Emil again.

" _När du tror att något dåligt kommer,"_ Emil repeated for him and this time Lalli could piece it together. _When you think that something bad is coming._ That was certainly true. So _orolig_ was something like worried. Maybe afraid. Lalli felt both, when he was being honest with himself. Should he be honest with Emil? Then again, who else could he be honest with?

Lalli wanted to say the words to someone. That's why he had shouted at Emil the day before, even if it had been in Finnish. He wanted someone to recognize what he was going through. All Onni saw was the challenge of an unknown opponent, a magical puzzle for himself to overcome so that he could find a way to keep Lalli and Tuuri from harm. Tuuri saw a threat to her dream expedition and the adventure of a lifetime. Lalli wanted someone to simply see and appreciate that he was standing effectively alone between these five strangers and whatever monsters were dogging their every step.

" _Ja."_ Lalli leaned his back, his neck falling against the rim of the tub. " _Jag_ _ä_ _r orolig."_ It felt surprisingly good to say it. When he and Tuuri had been on their way to talk to Reynir after the radio call, she'd wanted to know if things were really as bad as they sounded. He had felt the same duty to protect her that he always had, since they had been children, even though she was the older of the two of them. He hadn't been able to tell her just how worried he was. But the limits of his Swedish left him without any choice but to be blunt.

" _På grund av spöken?_ "

Lalli frowned. He hadn't understood a single word of the phrase. Emil normally did a better job than that. " _Va?"_ he asked snappishly. The brief question was what he heard all the others say when they had trouble understanding each other's slightly different languages.

It apparently worked because Emil tried to explain. " _Spöken är...inte odjur eller troll eller jättar. De har inga kroppar."_ He reached out and put his hand on Lalli's bare shoulder for a moment and repeated, " _Kroppar. Du...du har en kropp. Spöken har inga kroppar."_ He tapped his fingers on Lalli's collarbone for emphasis before withdrawing his hand.

 _Not beasts or trolls or giants. And they have no bodies._ Yes, that summed his problem up rather well. Lalli nodded. " _Jag_ _är orolig._ _..p_ _å spöken_ _,"_ he said, trying to put the whole thing together. It was still oddly thrilling to admit it out loud.

" _Jag är orolig på grund av spöken,"_ Emil said, repeating his sentence with probably better grammar.

Lalli considered getting annoyed, but it didn't seem worth ruining the moment. Once this bath ended, he would have to face Reynir again. It grated on his nerves to have to ask for the untrained mage's help, but Onni had insisted that the only way he would meet Lalli to discuss the issue was if he had Reynir help him find his way through the vast dreamscape between them. Even Lalli had to admit that he might not be able to find Onni on his own from this distance. Icelandic mages did seem better at navigating the dreamscape--even without any training, as infuriating as that fact was.

So he asked instead, _"På grund av?"_

Emil seemed to think a minute then he said, " _Jag är kallt på grund av snön. Jag är varm på grund av solen._ " Lalli noticed the pattern before Emil had to think up a third example. Something like 'because.'

Lalli translated all the sentences in his head. _I'm cold because of the snow. I'm warm because of the sun. I'm afraid because of the ghosts._ He grimaced. It was true.

" _Kan jag hjälpa?_ _"_

Could he help? The offer was nice. It was what he'd been waiting for someone to say to him. He had wanted someone to recognize that he needed help. But he knew Emil couldn't actually do anything. What could a non-mage possibly do? What could even a mage do? That was what he needed to talk to Onni about to find out.

He leaned to the side, letting his face rest on Emil's jacketed arm where it was propped on the side of the tub, and shook his head.

 

 

Emil looked down at Lalli's face as the Finn rested his heavy head against his forearm. Lalli's eyes were closed, but he didn't look very peaceful.  _What does he mean I can't help? There must be something I can do._ But what? Trolls and beasts were bad enough—and he knew how to deal with them. A rain of bullets, a gout of fire, and even he could take them down. What did you do to stop a ghost? How did you kill something that was already dead?

_Okay, maybe I can't do anything to stop the ghosts, but I can think of at least one thing I can do to help Lalli forget about them._

The terrible thought had formed itself before he could stop it. Was he really considering the idea of kissing Lalli again to try to distract him from whatever was making him look so unhappy in the dim light? One kiss from another boy should have been enough for a lifetime, he would have thought. But he wasn't even sure what it had felt like. He'd jerked away before he'd even thought about what was happening. It hadn't been the sensation that had made him pull away, just the shock of Lalli doing it.

From what he could remember of those few seconds, he'd had far worse kisses back when he'd been a younger teen and kissing girls as inexperienced as he was. He didn’t remember there being anything bad about the way Lalli kissed him at all. Would it really be so terrible to do it again? Once you’d been kissed by a guy once, what difference would one more kiss make?

 _No._ Emil shook his head from side to side. They had actually managed to have something like a real conversation: talking about something more important than the weather or food. It had only been a few sentences, but Lalli had told him more about himself in those few sentences than he had in all the other hundred snippets of conversations they'd had over the past two weeks. Emil couldn’t risk messing that up because of some sort of strange _curiosity._

Lalli was worried. He was worried and he was alone. And he was lying on Emil's arm, the weight of that head on his arm somehow reassuring. Lalli seldom touched him without reason. _Except when he kissed you_ , Emil's mind whispered treacherously.

 _Yes_ , Emil admitted to himself, _except when he kissed me_.

Lalli's head was bent to the side, his neck exposed to the night air, and Emil caught himself wondering if that patch of wet skin would taste like sweat if he kissed it--or like the soap that he’d used to wash Lalli’s hair.

Lalli breathed out heavily, shifting against his arm. Emil leaned closer. His breath must have whispered over Lalli’s skin, because the other boy lifted his head to look at him. Their eyes met and neither moved for a few seconds. Then Lalli, with an inscrutable expression, tilted his head slightly so that their faces were at a better angle should they happen to meet in the middle of the space between them.

Emil’s heart was pounding harder now than it had ever done in that field. It was pounding so loudly that he couldn't think past the noise. So he didn’t think. He went with his instincts and moved across those last few inches to brush his lips against Lalli's for an instant. And then he did it again, lingering longer this time.

Since he wasn’t jerking away in shock this time, he could say quite definitely that it wasn't bad. It made his stomach feel like it had dropped through the ground but Emil realized that he liked the feeling. Lalli didn't move to deepen the kiss, so Emil lifted his free hand to cup that pale blond head, pulling Lalli to him. As his fingers dug into the wet strands of hair, he felt Lalli's lips part slightly beneath his, and this time Emil didn't hesitate to take advantage of the invitation there.

He didn't think about the fact that he was kissing another boy--or that he was kissing his friend and that this might all go terribly, terribly wrong. He might lose his only true friend in the world. Instead all he thought about was Lalli's mouth beneath his and how good it felt. He shifted his right arm from where it was trapped against the side of the tub, moving to wrap it around Lalli's bare back. But as he did, his sleeve dipped into the bathwater and he felt the coldness seeping through all the layers of his jacket.

He pulled back. "Lalli! The water is freezing!"

Lalli shrugged, leaning in. " _Det_ _är okej,"_ he said just before their lips met again. Emil struggled away.

"No, it's not okay! What if you got sick?" Emil sat back on his butt. "We're getting you out of there."

The Finn blinked for a moment, as though waking up. Then he nodded mutely and put both hands on the edge of the tub to lift himself out. Emil scrambled back, grabbing the towels he'd gotten out earlier and tossing one for Lalli to catch. He threw the other over Lalli's head, already vigorously rubbing his hair dry. If he kept moving, he wouldn’t need to think about why his hands were shaking and his pulse racing.

Emil grabbed Lalli's sweater and yanked it over the boy’s head as though he was dressing a child. Lalli's hair was standing up in every direction when he finally got his face free, emerging from the neck of the sweater with a glare. Emil held out his pants without a word and Lalli took them, stepping in one thin leg at a time.

Emil looked at the scout, standing there with his pale, white feet peeking out of his soft pants and his face half-obscured by his long hair. His sweater hung off of him and he looked so thin that he might just blow away. Emil hated the thought. He reached out before Lalli could disappear, sliding his hand down the Finn’s arm to take hold of one of those narrow wrists. Lalli raised his face to look at him and Emil didn’t even know who moved, but then they were kissing again.

This time Emil could wrap his arms around Lalli’s thin back, crushing the lighter boy to him. He wished he wasn’t wearing his thick outdoor jacket. He drove Lalli back until he hit the side of the tank with a painful-sounding thump. Lalli gave an annoyed growl and struck back, his thin fingers twisting into Emil’s hair so tightly that he probably pulled some of it loose. His mouth fought with Emil’s, tongue and teeth aggressive and ravenous. God, it was fantastic.

The door to the tank burst open and they both jerked back. Sigrun was leaning out the doorway with her short sword at the ready in one hand. She looked from one of them to the other, then lowered the blade. “For god’s sake, you two. I thought we were under attack.” She shook her head, scrubbing one hand through her tousled hair. “I don’t care what you do in your off time, but do it somewhere other than against the side of the tank.”

She turned to head back in, then stopped. “No, wait. I do care what you’re doing.” She fixed Emil with a narrow look. “ _You_ are supposed to be on watch right now. How are you going to see anything coming if you’re buried up to your ears in the scout’s face?” She waved her sword to take in the two of them. “No more of _this_ during guard duty.”

Still trapped against the tank by Emil’s arms, Lalli nodded mutely. Emil was too dumbfounded to even do that. He wondered if Lalli had understood that much of what Sigrun said or if he simply knew not to argue with that tone of voice. Sigrun nodded back and when she disappeared into the tank, Lalli slipped under his arm to follow after her.

“Lalli!” Emil grabbed his arm again without thinking. Lalli turned and blinked at him. He looked as though he was trying to read something from Emil's face, and Emil honestly had no idea what he would find there. Emil didn’t know what was going on in his own mind except that he was afraid of what would happen after Lalli went into the tank and this strange, wonderful stolen moment was over. He didn’t know what he would do when the sun rose the next day or what would have changed.

" _Reynir_ _väntar_ ," Lalli said.

Emil blanched. Raynir was waiting? What did that mean? He was done with Emil and moving onto the braided babbler? Was it true what they said about Finnish mages after all? Had he just been tossed aside like a bowl of Mikkel's muck?

" _Onni väntar."_

_And who the hell was Onni?_

Then Emil remembered that Onni was the name of Tuuri's brother. And everything made sense. Lalli had talked to Onni on the radio that afternoon. Now it seemed like he and Reynir and Onni were going to have some magic mage meeting or something. That must have been what Lalli and Tuuri were talking to the Icelander about just before Lalli had stormed off.

"Can...can I come?" It was embarrassing to have to ask, but he didn't know how all this magic stuff worked and he didn’t see any reason why Reynir should be included and not him. He couldn't believe that Reynir--the ignorant sheepherder himself--could possibly have some great mystical power that he didn't. Reynir didn’t even seem to have power over his own big mouth. If Reynir could join them, why couldn't he?

Lalli looked faintly surprised, perched on the edge of the tank, then a bit sad. " _Nej_ ," he said, with a soft pat on Emil's shoulder. Emil caught his hand before Lalli could pull it back and stared up at him. Then Lalli gave an enigmatic smile the likes of which he had never seen before. Emil was transfixed on the spot, making him an easy target when Lalli bent down to give him the quickest and most thorough kiss of his life. Then he disappeared into the tank and left Emil alone to have to figure out on his own what in the world he had just done.


	15. Chapter 15

**Lesson 15**

Emil’s hands shook as grabbed the side of the wooden bathtub. He couldn’t blame Lalli any longer for any awkwardness that his one kiss had caused, because tonight he had kissed Lalli all on his own. Quite enthusiastically and a lot more than once.

The bath was completely cold now. Emil squatted down beside it again, lifting one side of the tub so that the water began tipping out onto the ground. He watched the cascade with unseeing eyes as it poured over the lip of the tub.

He had kissed Lalli. And he had liked it so much that he had done it again—and again. He wished Sigrun hadn’t interrupted them and it wasn’t just because he was mortally embarrassed that the captain had seen him locked in some kind of embrace with their very male scout. He simply hadn’t wanted to stop.

Would it happen again? That last kiss before Lalli disappeared sure as hell seemed like a promise for more, and Emil hoped that Lalli meant to keep it. He could question what it meant, but he couldn’t deny the urge he had even that moment to drag Lalli back out of the tank and pin him against a tree somewhere that no one would find them this time. Lalli may have been a boy, but he was _Lalli_. Confusing, yes, but strong and unflappable and a constant component of Emil's life since the moment he had first pillaged his sandwich on the train to Mora and wormed his way into Emil’s heart.

Which was why Emil was also petrified. He’d had plenty of time the previous day to imagine what his life would be like on this expedition if Lalli wasn’t his friend. It was a much bleaker picture. Mikkel mocking him over face cancer—and no Lalli there to pat him silently on the shoulder in commiseration as he slipped out of the tank. Sigrun tossing him straight into harm’s way to toughen him up—without Lalli beside him, warning him of trolls and slashing out without hesitation with his deadly knife. Tuuri gushing on about some book that Emil really didn’t care about—and Lalli not dozing beside him to open one lazy eye and give Emil that knowing look that said he knew Emil was getting about as much out of Tuuri’s rapid Swedish as he himself was.

Moving in a slow daze, Emil replaced the soap on the appropriate shelf and put all of the clothes to be decontaminated in the UV light chamber. He locked the outer door behind him and slipped into the sleeping chamber, rubbing his hands together to dry the anti-bacterial gel that was always the last step of his night. Lalli had already crawled into his cave, his head curled in and resting on one arm rather than on the pillow that was shoved against the wall. Sigrun’s bunk was empty, and Emil poked his head into the cockpit to find her sitting in the driver’s seat, her feet propped up on the dashboard.

“Since _somebody_ woke me up anyway,” Sigrun said before he could even utter a word. She must have heard him creeping around the tank. She glanced over her shoulder at him, a grin on her lips that told him she wasn’t really all that mad. She reached back to punch him in the shoulder. “Get some sleep, kid. I’ve got this.”

He gave her a grateful smile. Maybe she would think it was just because of her taking over the watch, but it wasn't. Emil still wasn't sure how he felt about his sudden urge to kiss another boy, but he wanted to kiss _her_ for not saying a word about it. It was the most grateful he had ever been for savage Norwegians. Maybe men lusting after other men was no big deal when you came from a culture that actively sought out trolls for fun--all kinds of things probably happened on those long summer hunts.

Emil lowered himself onto his usual bunk and turned onto his side to look at the others. He could just see the pale smudge of Lalli’s face in the shadow under the opposite bunk. One hand was flung out, and Lalli was twitching in his sleep. Then Emil remembered that Lalli might not just be sleeping. He'd said he was meeting Reynir and Onni, hadn't he? Emil had no idea how hard that might be to do. He was about as clueless about mages as he was about what was going to happen between him and Lalli the next day.

Emil reached out, rolling part way off the bed and stretching his fingers as far as they could go until he could catch that limp hand. He gave it a reassuring squeeze and Lalli quieted in his restless sleep. _See, Lalli?_ Emil thought with some pride. _Maybe I don't know everything, but I can still help, too._

 

 

“Onni, there has to be something more. Every morning I chant the spells you gave me, but it's not helping. Their hatred has only gotten stronger, not weaker. If they've grown in number or power since we faced them in that city, then...” Lalli could hear the fear seeping into his own voice and he broke off.

When he fell silent, he noticed that something curious was happening to him in Onni’s dreamspace. There was a faint pressure around his right hand: a warm, squeezing sensation as if it were bound in soft cloth. He glanced down his arm, clad in the familiar uniform he’d worn for years as a scout in Keuruu. There was nothing touching him. Then he realized it must be coming from the real world. _Emil_.

Of course it was Emil. It was always Emil. He curled his hand into a ball, as though he could catch the feeling before it fled, and faced Onni again. “What about the Icelander?” he asked. Reynir had been dismissed as soon as he’d gotten Lalli here, but Lalli wasn’t stupid enough to not use Reynir’s power when it was right there to be used. “Talk to Taru or the other crew there. Someone must know an Icelandic mage. Find him a teacher that he can reach through the dreamscape. If he finds you this easily, without even trying, it should be possible. Then there would at least be two of us.” Onni looked like he was thinking the idea through. “Isn’t that what Icelandic mages do? Protection? We could use some more protection.”

Onni nodded slowly. “I will talk with Taru. Perhaps the man Trond..." He broke off. "Well, he seems to have many varied—and suspect—connections.”

“Good. Then maybe he’ll be some help with defenses. So teach me how to fight better.”

Onni looked at him sharply. Lalli pushed anyway, knowing that he was in a dangerous position with his teacher.

“Our magic is not about runes and shields and keeping things away, Onni. Our gods entrust us with more power than that. But the gods feel so far in this place. I need to be able to fight here. Even if there is nothing to call on but my own luonto.”

His cousin sighed and looked out over the still waters of his personal dreamscape. The pools were far deeper than they looked, but so smooth that they could have been as thin as a sheet of glass. Onni had been taught by their grandmother, just as Lalli had been, to view his luonto as the most powerful ally he had. Lalli knew that he had. But it was a lesson that he had not carried on with once she was gone.

Lalli had only had four years under their grandmother’s tutelage. Even so, she had trained him in calling his luonto every day from the time that he was four years old until the day she died. But Onni had been sixteen when that had happened. Lalli was sure that he must have learned more than Lalli himself had. The way that he had rescued them all the way from Sweden proved it. But he had always insisted that the things he held back from Lalli weren’t worth the risk. It was safer to ask the gods to grant you their favor then to risk tearing yourself apart, he had told Lalli when he had taken over Lalli’s training. Considering what had just happened to their grandmother, Lalli hadn’t been able to argue then. But a lot had changed in ten years.

Onni sighed. “We will discuss that. First tell me again what you saw. Every detail.”

And even if Onni was not the teacher that their grandmother had been, Lalli knew better than to disobey him. So he began to tell it all yet again.

 

 

Lalli woke all at once. His eyes popped open, but not another muscles moved as he took a moment reorient himself to his body and surroundings. He and Onni had practiced all night among the quiet, rocky hills of Onni's haven. Lalli felt more tired than he had been when he'd fallen asleep, but satisfied in a way that he hadn't been for some time. He was doing _something_. He was doing whatever he could to prepare for this threat if it should come.

His conversation with Onni had been worth asking for Reynir's help. They had discussed every moment of what had happened in Copenhagen, and this time he’d had to tell Onni about how he had summoned his luonto to clear that building and been left without it for days afterward. He had omitted that detail before. Onni had given him just the scolding and lecture that he had expected, and it had smarted no less for having expected it. He would need his luonto’s power if those ghost came back, Onni had told him—which was nothing that Lalli hadn’t realized on his own. His cousin and teacher had forbidden him from using that much power at one time and leaving himself so unprotected again. But he had also finally agreed that Lalli should begin training with his luonto in earnest. It was unlikely that he would achieve much in such a short time, if the ghosts were truly close on their heels, but the sooner he began the better.

There were no sounds from the other bunks. Lalli rolled out from under the mattress, creeping across the dark room on his toes and fingertips. When he got to the compartment where his clothes were decontaminated each night, he eased the UV light chamber open and withdrew the bag inside.

He was used to silently slipping the clothes from the large bag, easing them out to avoid any loud crinkling from the plastic. He pulled Emil’s gloves and jacket free from the bundle, leaving them hanging from a door handle. Then Lalli stripped off his warm sweats and began to pull on his cold uniform. The undershirt and trousers weren’t so bad, though they somehow always felt slightly clammy after spending the night in the UV unit. Next came the long boots, which took a bit of work to get on without ending up with cloth bunching up in uncomfortable areas. Whenever that happened, Lalli had to start all over again. The distraction of it drove him mad.

He slipped his arms through his sleeveless jacket. It was really no more than a vest, but a full jacket like the other crew members wore would cook him within ten minutes of running even at an easy pace. He zipped it up his chest, tugging out the two flaps that he could fold over his face if it grew too cold. Finally came the gloves, and then he was ready to creep back out to where the others slept.

His eyes adjusted to the gloom again as he paused in the doorway. Mikkel was gone from his bed, up in the front seat most likely. Lalli sidled past Reynir on the floor to make his usual stop at Emil’s bed. He reached down, his white-fingered glove hesitating over the spun-gold strands.

Leaning closer, he peered at Emil’s face and wondered if he was dreaming. What would he dream of? How did non-mages dream if they didn’t have private dreamspaces of their own? He must have dreamed like that once, too. When he’d been a child. But he couldn’t really remember it. Creating a safe haven in your dreams was one of the first things any Finnish mage learned to do. Even some people who never became mages were taught how to do it. Those were the people who were sensitive enough to magic to be plagued by bad dreams and restless spirits, even if they could not see into the spirit world enough to be qualified as mages.

As he looked down at Emil’s vulnerable face, Lalli felt a curious fluttering in his chest, as if a small bird was caught within his ribcage. He recognized the feeling: it was anticipation. He remembered feeling it the day before his first-ever solo scouting. And the morning of his evaluation to see if he was worthy of the title of mage. He hadn't ever felt it for the girl in keuruu, but when he thought of Emil opening his eyes and what might happen then, the fragile thing in the middle of his chest stirred.

Was this why people got so particular about things like kissing? He had finally understood why that girl had clutched at him so, sliding her hands under his jacket and inside his tunic. He hadn't ever felt a need to grab at her in the same way, but last night he would have done the same to Emil if he'd gotten the chance. He would have burrowed inside of Emil if it would have satisfied the strange urge to be closer and closer and  _closer._ It was the first time he'd ever had such a feeling. Kissing Emil--when Emil was also kissing him back this time--had made the whole world seem to fall away. Lalli frowned slightly at the thought, then finally reached those last few centimeters to catch Emil's hair with the tips of his gloves. Then he fled out the door.

 

 

Emil was awoken the next morning by a familiar tug in his hair, and he smiled before his eyes even opened. _Everything is back to normal_. That was the first thought to filter through the hazy warmth that filled him as he waded back to consciousness. Then he remembered _why_ things hadn’t been normal, and how permanently he had deviated from normal the night before.

His eyes popped open. The door was already falling shut behind Lalli. He slowly sat up in his bed, glancing around at his sleeping crewmates. They all looked just as they did every morning, and none of them had any idea what had changed since they had left the land of the waking and entered sleep. None except Sigrun, perhaps.

He swung his legs out of bed and padded from the sleeping quarters to begin the day with a new nervousness about what it might bring. He spent longer than usual getting ready, washing his face and even his hair by tipping his head over a basin of warmed water. Wet hair in the chilly air of an autumn Scandinavian morning wasn’t exactly pleasant, but knowing that he wouldn’t look scraggly and greasy was worth it. He filled the canteen with boiling water, and then he set out to the south. He didn’t know what he would do when he found the scout, and he didn’t have time to figure it out either. Before he had gotten more than twenty meters from the tank, Lalli fell into step beside him, appearing suddenly from the east.

“ _H-hej_ ,” Emil managed to squeeze out in an almost-normal voice. Lalli nodded in return, not adding anything to the attempt at conversation. Emil grimaced. He had been hoping to follow Lalli’s lead, but he should have remembered that Lalli wasn’t really the leading type. If he had followed Lalli’s lead after the soup incident, they still might not be talking to each three weeks later instead of...whatever they were now.

Emil looked down at his canteen, then held it up with a questioning look. Lalli nodded again and waved a hand, gesturing for Emil to follow him. There had still been no snow since Lalli’s magical outburst and the ground was dry that morning. Lalli picked his way through the strange land, never looking behind him and apparently trusting that Emil would follow. Or, more likely, able to hear that Emil was following since Emil still couldn’t even begin to mimic Lalli’s silent way of slipping through the underbrush.

“What are we looking for?” Emil asked and Lalli didn’t answer. They kept walking for what seemed like a long time—much longer than they usually did. Emil’s heart thumped against his ribs. Was Lalli taking them someplace far from the tank, where they wouldn't be interrupted again? It was what Emil had thought of the previous night, but now in the light of a new morning, the idea of picking up where they had left off was much more intimidating.

But the scout seemed to be wandering without a destination in mind, from the way his path turned this way and that. If Lalli wasn’t planning on murdering him and leaving his body in the woods for the way he’d acted the past two days, then Emil hoped that the scout knew how to find the way back to the camp. He didn’t think he would be able to.

After more than twenty minutes, they came upon the marshy bank of a broad river, and Emil had to wonder if Lalli had actually known it would be there or if they had only arrived there by chance. Lalli threw himself down on a fallen tree. It was half-rotten and chunks of mealy wood fell off of it and onto the ground just from his slight weight. Emil took a seat gingerly beside him, but the thing didn’t collapse. His hair was nearly dry after the long walk and he brushed the fingers of one hand through it, smoothing it nervously as he looked out at the river. The water was shallow, but wide and running quickly.

Lalli put his hand out and Emil hesitated for a moment, unsure if he was supposed to put his own hand in it. Then he remembered that he was still holding the canteen. He passed it over.

He watched Lalli’s gloved hands moving deftly as he unscrewed the top and pulled a handful of leaves from a pocket, curling each one into a fragile tube that could be slotted into the narrow neck of the bottle.

“How was it?” he asked into the silence. Lalli glanced at him. He clarified: “With Reynir. And Onni.”

He was surprised to see Lalli’s mouth quirk up into something like a small smile, as though he was remembering something good.

“What?” Emil asked. “Did they help?”

Lalli blinked and then frowned. He shook his head. “ _Nej_.” Then he made a hesitant noise and corrected himself. “ _Kanske_.”

 _Maybe, huh?_ “What happened?” Emil asked.

“ _Vi pratar,_ ” Lalli said, rolling his eyes. There wasn’t a whole lot else he could say with his limited vocabulary, as he seemed intent on reminding Emil. Obviously they had talked.

“ _Vi pratade_ ,” Emil said, supplying the past tense.

“ _Ja, vi pratade._ ”

“ _Om spöken?_ ”

Lalli nodded. It was nothing that Emil hadn’t already more or less known. He had known from what Tuuri had said that Lalli wanted to talk to his cousin about the strange ghosts. But it still filled him with a fierce sort of pride that Lalli—who hated to respond to any question he thought was pointless—would bother answering him.

“ _Kan Onni hjälpa dig?_ ” he asked slowly. Lalli shrugged again.

“ _Kanske,”_ Lalli said and he held up his hand, measuring a small distance between his thumb and forefinger.

“A little?” Emil asked. “ _Lite?”_

“ _Lite. Kanske_ ,” Lalli said again, seeming to add the new word to his mental dictionary.

“ _Kan Onni bekämpa dem?_ ” Emil asked. He held his fists up, giving a mock punch to illustrate the meaning of _bekämpa._

 _”Kanske.”_ Lalli said with a shrug. ” _Han är..._ ” He broke off and waved his hand vaguely, indicated the north.

”Too far away?” Emil guessed. Imitating Lalli, he extended his arm as far as he could reach. ” _Han_ _är f_ _järran?_ ”

Lalli gave a slow nod.

“ _Kan du bekämpa dem?"_

Lalli looked out across the water. “ _Kanske. Min...min_ luonto _är inte_...” He shrugged, trailing off with a frustrated gesture.

“ _Luonto?_ ” Emil repeated, not sure what the word was supposed to be. Had Lalli mispronounced one of the words they’d practiced together? If so, it was the first time. Normally his memory seemed impeccable.

Lalli waved one thin hand in the air, as if searching for the words he was looking for. “ _Luonto_ _är Finnska. Jag vet inte...vad du säger.”_

 _”Luonto,”_ Emil repeated in a doubtful tone. He wasn’t sure what to call it in Swedish either. The Finnish word didn’t ring any bells for him.

Lalli ran his hands over the space above his own head, then brought them together in front of his chest. ” _Luonto_ ,” he said. ” _Min luonto är mig. Och inte mig.”_

He clearly saw that Emil wasn’t getting it and he growled in frustration. Then he did _something_. Emil didn’t know what, because he didn’t seem to move, but something brushed against Emil’s bare hands. Some invisible presence, warm and soft as velvet. Emil jumped and Lalli nodded. “ _Luonto_ ,” he said.

“Did you do that?” Emil gasped. Lalli nodded again. “That’s your...luonto?” He was still trying to understand, though he might not have understood even if Lalli spoke perfect Swedish. Was it a spirit? Lalli’s spirit? Something he summoned to help him fight ghosts and things? It still floored him whenever Lalli did something supernatural. He was trying to get his head around the idea of magic being real, but he did have 19 years of conditioning to overcome.

Lalli continued, _“_ _Jag måste bli..._ ” Lalli suddenly rammed Emil in the arm, nearly knocking him off the log. ” _Vad betyder det?_ ” Lalli asked.

Emil stared at him in disbelief. _What does that mean?_ That was what he wanted to know. Why the hell had Lalli shoved him?

Lalli did it again and this time Emil had to throw out a hand to keep himself from going over. ” _Vad betyder det?_ ” Lalli asked again, insistently. Then Emil realized that, as far as he could remember, he had never taught Lalli how to ask what something was called. Which was probably what he meant to ask rather than ”What does that mean?”

” _Vad heter det?”_ he said, giving Lalli a gentler push in return. Lalli nodded.

Emil frowned. ”What do you call it? I don’t know. A shove? An unwarranted attack on my person?”

Lalli frowned. He gave a light push then repeated the word Emil had offered him. " _Knuff?_ ” He shook his head. That wasn’t the word he was looking for. He pushed on Emil softly, too soft to even move him. Then he shoved hard and said, ” _Vad heter det?”_ He repeated the two moves when Emil didn’t answer. Soft, then hard. No, not soft—weak. Weak and strong.

” _Svag?_ ” Emil burst out, suddenly getting it. ” _Svag och stark?”_

” _Svag?”_ Lalli repeated doubtfully, with a weak push. ” _Stark?_ ” He put his hands on Emil’s arm to shove him over again, and Emil grabbed them.

”Yes, yes, enough of that. Very strong. Let’s not push Emil into the river, please.”

” _Stark,”_ Lalli said again. ” _Jag måste bli stark. Min luonto måste bli stark._ ”

”You have to become stronger?” He flexed an arm in what he assumed was a universal symbol for strength, and Lalli nodded, staring off into the distance again

“ _Kan jag h_ _jä_ _lpa?”_ Emil asked. He knew he had asked the same thing before, and Lalli had told him no, but he couldn’t just stand by and do nothing.

Lalli shook his head before seeming to take the time to think. He hadn’t even hesitated.

Emil grabbed his arm and made Lalli look at him. “ _Lalli. Kan jag h_ _jä_ _lpa?_ _Jag är seriös._ _”_

At least Lalli did seem to give his answer some thought this time. Maybe racking his brain for anything that Emil could do to help him.

“ _Nej_ ,” Lalli said. But he patted Emil on the shoulder and added, “ _Tack. Det h_ _jä_ _lpa.”_

Even if Lalli claimed that the offer itself helped, getting turned down again didn’t make Emil feel much better. He wanted Lalli to understand that this wasn’t the empty offer you made to be polite. But more than that, he wanted to actually be of help to his friend.

Lalli lifted the canteen that had been hanging forgotten from his arm and he handed it to Emil. The Swede took a long swig to try to cover up his glum reaction. The "tea" tasted awful: like bitter licorice. He made a face and Lalli smirked, making his heartbeat trip over itself in surprise. Smiles from Lalli were rare and worth a bit of terrible tea.

After they emptied the canteen (which meant after Emil had handed it to Lalli to finish off), Lalli pushed off from the log and stepped into the river. He was still wearing his boots, tall and made of waterproofed leather. Emil had to take off his boots and socks and roll his pants up over his knees, but he waded in after Lalli, feeling the slick rocks rolling under his feet. Clouds of muck rose up wherever he stepped and the water was cold enough to snatch his breath away, but he didn’t complain much more than was necessary to teach Lalli a few new words to describe being cold enough to have your toes fall off.

They gathered bulrushes, with Lalli teaching him how to pull them up from the base to get the tender shoots at the bottom of the plants, slapping Emil’s hands lightly when he tried to pull a plant up from the top and ended up with an inedible handful of fibrous leaves. When they had a pile of shoots sitting on the shore, Lalli squatted down on the riverside with a bunch of the long leaves. He spread them out in neat rows with his deft fingers, weaving leaves over and under one another until they began to form a mat. While he did, Emil walked further out into the water, grabbing at fish flashing through the river. All he got for his trouble was more water on himself than he had washing his hair that morning. But the sun was shining and the bugs were chirping in the early morning, which seemed to belong to he and Lalli alone in all the world. Emil looked up to examine the Finn sitting on the shore, his ash-blond hair shining like silver in the bright light. Smiling, he turned his eyes back to the fish and the river.

After maybe twenty minutes, he saw that Lalli had made a little woven basket. It was obviously not meant to last, but was as deep as his forearm and would last the day. Emil straightened in the water and watched as Lalli slipped back into the water and began slowly wading through the river, seeming to look for something. He found it at the edge of the river, in a shady area overhung by the branches of a half-collapsed tree. He slid one long arm into the water slowly, easing it under a large rock so that Emil could not see what the white fingers of his gloves were doing in the dark water.

He didn’t seem to move at all and Emil waited, assuming that something was about to happen. After several long seconds, there was a noisy splash as Lalli jerked his arm out of the water and a flash of silver flew through the air, arcing like a bit of molten light made flesh.

Emil hadn’t even seen the fish in the water, but there it was, flopping on the grass as it tried to work itself way back to the river. Lalli jerked his chin toward it. Emil stared at him, uncomprehending. Lalli sighed, shaking his head as he climbed out of the water. He grabbed the fish, holding it down with one hand and bashing it on the head with the hilt of his knife. It lay limp after that, and Lalli dropped it into the rough basket he'd made.

Climbing out of the river, Emil crouched down to peer in at the fish as Lalli headed backed into the water. Its scales glimmered as brightly as any jewelry. Then Emil waded after Lalli to see what he could learn. In the end, they carried four of the small fish back to the camp. Emil hadn’t caught a single one using Lalli’s technique, but he had gotten close a couple of times, and that was good enough for him. Especially since he still wasn’t entirely sure that Lalli wasn’t using some sort of magic. Tickling trout out of the river without magic was perhaps harder to believe in than a spell.

Emil’s hands, reeking with the cold smell of fresh fish, glimmered with shed scales from the few he had helped club. He scraped a few off with his thumbnail as they walked back to the tank with their haul, and he realized that there hadn’t been a single non-platonic moment the entire morning. Even when Lalli had wrapped one arm around him from behind, his face right beside Emil’s as he tried to show him how to tickle the trout in their hiding spots, Emil had been so fascinated that he hadn’t even thought of how easy it would be to turn his head and pick up where they had left off the night before. There hadn't been even a hint that the previous night had happened, in fact. Not a single one of the scenarios he had imagined the previous night had come to pass. It had just been a perfectly normal morning--just one of the happiest mornings he could remember.

 

 

Lalli led the way back to the tank. They had come far that morning, and Lalli wasn’t sure why he’d brought Emil so far out. It hadn’t been necessary. They had passed patches of mushrooms, birch trees that could have been stripped for their bark, greens they could have plucked—all kinds of things they could have gathered for Mikkel’s morning preparations. But he had just kept walking, not wanting to stop.

He stole a glance over his shoulder to check Emil, thinking again about what had happened the night before. He'd thought about it far more times than he was comfortable with, but Emil had not tried anything that morning. It was probably good that he hadn't. His kisses had made Lalli not want to stop, as if he could disappear into the feelings and exist within that space of exquisite sensation. He hadn’t cared how cold the water was or that Onni might be waiting for him or that the crew was being stalked by an enemy he didn’t know how to beat. The only thing he had cared about for those stolen minutes was how good it felt to lose himself in Emil.

That was probably a dangerous thing for a scout, never mind the only trained mage in the crew. He shouldn’t allow himself to forget the whole world. And yet. And yet he wouldn’t have minded if Emil had done it again. He wouldn’t be the one to initiate it, though. Since he still didn’t understand why Emil had ignored him for a day after his first kiss, he would leave it up to Emil to decide what he wanted. But he found himself hoping that Emil wouldn’t take too long to figure it out.

He curled his fingers into his palm, remembering the touch that had echoed through his dream the night before. With a small smile on this lips, he began running through lists of the new words he had picked up from Emil that morning.

 

 

The strange peace continued between the two of them that day as their usual habits reasserted themselves. Lalli wandered to and fro from the tank, falling in beside Emil each time that he returned. They walked right in front of the tank’s windshield, so of course nothing happened between them. Just as nothing happened during lunch or dinner, when they were surrounded by the crew. And Lalli seemed quite fine with that. Emil, however, was slowly going mad.

He was beginning to wonder if he had imagined the night before. Had it been a dream that he had mistakenly thought was real? Had he really made out with his best friend and the end result was that nothing at all had changed?

When Lalli returned from his night scouting , they repeated the usual steps of the decontamination process as if they had never deviated from them in the slightest. Clothes were removed, Lalli was sprayed down, and Emil diligently scrubbed Lalli’s hair and scalp, staring down at that wet skin and driving himself insane with questions he didn't have answers to. When Lalli was out of the bath and getting dressed after being toweled off, Emil finally couldn't take it any longer.

"Lalli," he said suddenly, the name bursting out of his mouth as he reached out to catch the Finn's hand.

" _Nej._ " Lalli jerked back to avoid the touch. He must have seen Emil's look of devastation because he softened slightly and explained, " _Sigrun sa._ "

 _Sigrun said?_ The moment of panic he had felt when Lalli had first told him no was replaced with disbelief. Yes, Sigrun had technically forbidden them from doing anything when Emil was on watch, but it wasn't like one little touch would bring every troll in the area running. "Oh, come on, Lalli," he tried again in a placating tone. He stepped closer but Lalli danced back again.

" _Sigrun sa,"_ Lalli insisted in a voice that said there was no room for negotiation when it came to the captain's orders. He shot Emil one last pitying look and before Emil could think of a way to respond, he was gone. The tank door swung shut behind him while Emil stood speechless. So it wasn't that Lalli didn't want a repeat of the previous night, but he would deny himself--and Emil--because _Sigrun said so_?

"Well...fuck." Emil stared at the closed door for several more seconds before he finally propelled himself into action, mechanically cleaning up after the decontamination process. He couldn't believe that he'd thrown away an entire day's worth of chances without realizing it. He'd also heard Sigrun's order the night before, but hadn't thought of it since. It wasn't like a _real_ order. He hadn't even considered that Lalli would care. And since their nights were one of the best chances they had to be alone, this was going to make things more difficult.

 _Tomorrow morning_ , he told himself. _Things will be different tomorrow morning._

 

 

Lalli opened his eyes in his dreamspace. He was lying in the middle of his forest. He rolled onto his back and let his eyes fall close again. He would give himself one minute. One minute in this safe spot to let his frustration roll through him. He took out his memories of the previous night, unfolding them and wrapping himself in the thrilling feelings once more. He'd had to tell Emil no. Sigrun had said so. But he hadn't wanted to. When the minute was over, he tucked the feelings away again and rolled to his feet.

Onni had given him permission to venture out of his own personal haven--not to come seeking Onni again, which was still forbidden--but to ready himself to battle the bodyless threats that approached. It was not something that they did regularly in Finland. Most of Lalli's training as a mage had been directed toward his job as scout. He had honed his senses to be able to recognize the presence of beasts and trolls in the area. He had learned to read the spirits in the natural world around him to recognize signs of danger: areas weak in natural richness or where the life around him seemed somehow weakened, often a sign that there might be a nest of trolls or worse in the area. And he'd been taught to master the elements that would help him.

He could call on a wind to make himself faster, so that he could pursue beasts to be dispatched--or flee, if the need arose. He could call water from the rivers, or summon heavy rains, to try to overwhelm a foe or wash a horde of beasts away. He'd used that trick on rat beasts and other small creatures in the past. He could even summon fire, which was a difficult element for any mage to master. It was particularly fickle and so most mages did not depend on it in battle. Even Lalli would only attempt it if things were desperate. Fire was hard to control. If he succeeded in calling down fire on an area, it would burn everything. It was not a power to use when you had other allies nearby; it was only to be used when you were cornered and had no other hope of escape.

But he did not call on his luonto directly in the course of his job in Finland. There was no point in drawing your spirit out of your body to attack a beast when you could simply shoot it with a rifle. No point in possibly leaving yourself weak and defenseless to spiritually decapitate a troll when a short sword would work just as well. This kind of training took him back to his childhood. To his grandmother.

Now he thought back to those lessons with her. It was hard to know which memories of his grandmother were real lessons she had taught him and which were hazy figments of his imagination. But she had been the strongest mage in Saimaa, and she had made Onni one of the strongest mages in Finland. Onni had learned everything she had been willing to teach him, which was less than she knew, and his cousin had passed onto Lalli everything that he had been willing to teach him, which was even less again. But that would end now.

Lalli sat perched on a rock near the edge of his own dreamspace, looking out at the endless dark blue skies spotted with stars and heavy clouds. The waters reflected the stars where they could be seen, but beneath them in their midnight depths, shapes floated. Terrible shapes. Tortured and hungry and angry. And that was what he would train against.

He drew his spirit out of himself, letting his luonto take form. The lynx was a hazy glow at first, then it gradually took on definition. It danced across the water surface, paws setting off faint ripples in every direction. Lalli prayed that he would be able to wake up if something went wrong. Onni had actually suggested that he have Reynir accompany him in his training, as a failsafe to pull Lalli out of the wild dreamscape and into his haven if necessary. There were many things Lalli was willing to do for Onni, but subjecting himself to any more time with the Icelander was not one of them. Hopefully Onni would never need to find out.

A shadow moved under the water’s surface, and Lalli sat up straighter. His lynx stilled, then lowered its chest to the ground: a position from which it was ready to pounce once an enemy appeared.

When the creature broke the surface, he saw that it had once been a wolf or possibly some breed of dog that still looked quite lupine. It was so far gone that it was hard to be sure. He held the lynx back, feeling its silent growl reverberating in his own chest, until the thing had dragged its upper body out of the water, rotting front legs scrabbling up onto a shelf of rock in the shallows. Then he let his luonto go.

The lynx’s claws slashed through the mangy fur of the wolf beast’s astral body, ribbons of flesh and fur dropping away as it whined, jerking back. He needed to do better than that. Lalli needed to be able to punch straight through an enemy like this, not just tear away pieces of it. He lashed out again and again until there wasn’t enough left of the wolf for it to drag itself back up and attack.

Breathing out heavily, Lalli called the lynx back to him, giving his spirit a moment to be whole and rest. He remembered that lesson at least from his grandmother. If he sent his luonto out too long, it might forget its way back or that it had ever been a part of him and not want to return.

She had been warning him about sending it out for hours as a child. Most proficient adult mages could send their luonto out for up to a day or a night, to pass along a message or search for something on their behalf. His grandmother had been known to send her luonto out for over a week and still been able to call it back to herself without fail. And unlike most mages, who were significantly weakened without their luonto, she had never seemed bothered.

Lalli had never had reason to send his luonto out further than a few kilometers, living and working in Keuruu. He didn't even remember the last time he had purposefully done any training like this, and he felt how out of practice he was. Now that he was thinking back on those days of his childhood with his grandmother--something he normally avoided doing--he remembered for the first time in a long while how easy it had been then. His luonto had slipped free of him with barely a thought as a child and seemed happy to run free.

He waded out to the scattered remains, keeping an eye out for other creatures that might leap upon him. Kneeling in the icy water, he prayed for the spirit’s release. Then he returned to his outcrop and began again.

When too many came at him at once, he retreated back into his own dreamspace and was relieved to see that these common spirits could not follow him. Unlike the angry ghosts that they had encountered in Copenhagen, they remained outside the barriers of his grove and he let his ragged breath recover until he could step back out and deal with them.

He repeated the training all night, dispatching creature after creature that came after him, lured by the scent of life. It should even have some effect on the world around him, reducing the number of beasts and trolls he might encounter in Denmark. They were the nearest spirits, after all, that he was likely releasing from their hellish existence. And yet the numbers never seemed to decrease. No matter how many he destroyed, more and more kept coming. This is what had happened to an entire world lost to disease. A world larger than anything that Lalli could begin to conceive.

Finnish mages all knew that they had a duty to help lay such spirits to rest, but faced by the endless sea of the dreamscape, he realized how little his small tribe of people could ever do. They might never be able to cleanse this much evil from the world. But he would keep his small band of six humans safe. No matter what.

 

 

Morning came--and went. Emil had gone back and forth within his own head as he kneeled near Lalli, ripping plants up with an unwarranted frustration, but there had never been a moment when it seemed natural and he hadn't been able to work up the nerve to simply push Lalli over and pin him to the ground when Lalli was acting as though he was just fine resuming their usual friendship. It was driving Emil positively mad. How could Lalli act like nothing at all had changed? Hadn't he felt what Emil felt? And Lalli had been the one to kiss him first, hadn't he? He'd been the one trying to change their relationship, and once Emil had finally got on board, he acted completely oblivious?

Emil's temper grew worse and worse all day, and the others were beginning to notice. It was an awkward dinner as Emil and Lalli didn't exchange a word and the others kept glancing at the two of them curiously. Emil only felt more awkward about the looks they were getting since Lalli seemed completely at his ease, scraping his plate clean and then stifling a yawn as he got to his feet. Without sparing a glance at the others, he left his bowl on the pile of pots for Reynir to clean and walked to the front of the tank to begin his usual series of stretches, as he always did after he had been sitting for more than a half hour.

Emil dropped his plate onto the pile and hurried after him. He wouldn't have another chance if Lalli left for his last scouting now. By the time he returned, it would be dark and Emil would be back on watch. He reached the scout and Lalli straightened up from touching his toes to look at him in question. Emil shot a look behind them to see the rest of the crew staring at them, though they all turned their eyes away in a hurry once they realized he'd seen them. With his face burning, Emil grabbed Lalli's arm and dragged him to the far side of the tank.

Lalli's eyebrows shot up as Emil checked both ends of the tank, listening for a moment until the conversations started up again around the cook fire. Then he swung back to the boy who was waiting with an expectant look. Emil didn't know if he was simply expecting an explanation for why Emil had dragged him around the tank or something more.

He stepped up to the Finn. He had removed his gloves to eat, so he could feel the cool skin of Lalli's face as he slid his fingers along one sharp cheekbone to cup that familiar face in one hand. Lalli leaned into the touch for a moment and Emil was swamped with relief. He hadn't been wrong. He was just considering his next move when Lalli grabbed Emil by the front of his jacket, yanking Emil to himself to steal the kiss before it could be offered.

Emil's surprised exclamation was swallowed into the kiss and he wrapped both hands in Lalli's silky hair. _Thank god._ It was just as intoxicating as he remembered, and Lalli clearly wasn't as oblivious as he'd been acting. He stifled a groan as Lalli worked his way across his jaw, yanking down the high neck of his black thermals to bite Emil on the neck. Emil's hands twisted in that silvery hair as he struggled not to make a noise. The entire crew was on the other side of the tank, quietly finishing their meal, and Emil wanted to throw Lalli to the ground and do--well, he wasn't sure exactly what boys might do to one another. He knew what he'd done to himself plenty of times since he'd first figured it out at age twelve, but wasn't all that sure about making it into a two-person activity.

He pulled Lalli's face back up to his own, taking his turn to pepper kisses over it. He kissed along those ridiculous cheekbones and nuzzled at the tender skin beneath Lalli's ears, whispering words between the kisses without even thinking what he was saying. Lalli hissed back something in Finnish and it didn't matter what it meant. The strained tone told Emil the only thing that he needed to know: that Lalli was being driven just as mad as he was by this.

When Lalli finally pushed Emil far enough away that he could hang his head down and catch his breath, Emil bent his head to plant a kiss on his temple. Lalli's gray eyes rolled up to glare at him but not in real anger. Emil could read the expression without needing a translator and it clearly said "Do you not see me trying to being good here? Stop that." Emil grinned and kissed Lalli on his nose.

Lalli let out a stream of Finnish that, if Emil had to guess from the frustrated tone, may have contained a few curse words. Lalli's hair was standing out in all directions because of Emil's clutching fingers. Feeling responsible, he reached out and smoothed the mess down, running his fingers through the thin strands where they had tangled. He couldn't do anything about the flush in Lalli's cheeks or lips. He didn't really want to do anything to make it go away. He'd rather keep causing it, in fact.

Impulsively, he hugged Lalli to him, rifle and all. And Lalli, for the first he could remember, did not just stand there and tolerate it. He tucked his face into Emil's hair, his hands reaching up and clutching Emil's shoulders. It only lasted seconds, but it still took Emil's breath away. Then Lalli pulled away, yanking his hood up as he went. His eyes peered out from the shadows beneath the hood. " _Jag spanar."_ That was all he said as he took another step back.

Emil held out one hand with a smile. "I'll be here when you get back." Lalli's hand brushed against his, then he turned and dashed away. "Good luck!" Emil called after him. In a minute he would have to walk back around the tank and face the curious looks from the others. In a minute he would have to wipe the silly grin off his face. In a minute Lalli would be out of sight among the trees. But not yet. Not yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! Traveling in Japan and busy with family stuff and this reaction chapter just did not want to come together. But am still having fun imagining crazy situations for Emil and Lalli. In the next chapter, we don't hear anything from Lalli himself, but we hear a whole lot about him from others. ;)


	16. Chapter 16

**Lesson 16**

Lalli wasn’t eating. That was Emil’s first hint that something might be wrong.

It had taken him longer than it probably should have to notice, but he’d been lost in recollections of their morning rendezvous. They had crossed the long bridge across the sea the day before, setting out with first light--which had prevented any private time between the two of them. This morning they had resumed their morning ritual, and it had involved somewhat less searching for food and quite a bit of searching for what made Lalli growl with pleasure. That fierce noise was quickly becoming one of Emil’s favorite sounds, especially since it was normally followed by Lalli pouncing on him with vengeful kisses that took his breath away. That morning, Lalli had ended up pinning Emil down on the ground, straddling his waist and not relenting until Emil begged him to.

Now they were stopped for lunch, and everyone else was shoveling down Mikkel’s latest creation. But the scout didn’t seem to have even touched the food that he had helped collect. As soon as Emil realized this, the food in his own mouth seemed to turn to sawdust. He forced himself to swallow it down so he could ask, “What is it?”

Lalli gave Emil a long look before shaking his head. “Nothing?” Emil said, still hopeful. He couldn’t remember if Lalli knew the word or not. Maybe the shake had just meant that nothing was wrong. Lalli looked off into the distance and shook his head again. Not nothing then.

Even in the middle of her conversation with Mikkel, Sigrun noticed Lalli's distraction and the way that Emil was staring at him in alarm. She knew to watch her scout as closely as you watched a cat for signs of danger. “Something the matter?” she called from her camp stool across the circle.

Emil shrugged helplessly. “I'm not sure,” he answered for Lalli. “But something has him spooked.”

Lalli spoke up suddenly, but in Finnish. He was looking at Tuuri, who quickly relayed a question to Reynir in Icelandic. The ginger shook his head, and Lalli narrowed his eyes. He set his food down on the ground and stood, pulling his scout’s hood over his head. He walked over to the tank, grabbing his rifle and Emil’s flamethrower from where they had been leaning together against the rusting metal hull. He slung the rifle over his own back and pushed the flamethrower into Emil’s hands with an intent look. Emil guessed that it mean something like: “Don’t get yourself killed.”

Lalli called something over his shoulder in Finnish, then gave Sigrun a nod that she seemed to understand without the need for any words.

Tuuri looked at Sigrun unsurely. “He said that Reynir and I should stay in the tank.”

“He was right,” Sigrun said. “In you go. Keep the doors closed.”

When Emil turned back to look at Lalli, he was gone—already halfway across the field they had stopped in. It was sickening how quickly things changed from an everyday meal to an emergency. Tuuri and Reynir were tucked inside the tank, and Emil could see them in the front seats, peering out the windows nervously with their facemasks already in place. Mikkel had killed the fire and he was placed at the tank’s door as the last defense for the non-immune.

Sigrun handed the Dane a semi-automatic rifle. “Don’t you shoot us by accident,” she told him in a surprisingly soft voice.

“I wouldn’t want to create more work for myself,” he said with a bored look, and Sigrun grinned as she slapped his arm.

Sigrun herself threw open the back of the tank with one last glance over her shoulder, then she grabbed a bandolier with extra ammo for herself and another for Emil, tossing it in his direction one-handed. He pulled it over his head, just barely getting his hands up again in time to catch the gun she threw at him next. He slung that over his shoulder in case he needed it, but his flamethrower was still his weapon of choice.

He checked the explosives that he wore around his belt. If the eight charges he had weren’t enough for whatever was coming, then it didn’t seem likely that the tank would survive the attack anyway. His heart was hammering and his grip on his flamethrower was already wet with sweat. Sigrun slammed the tank’s hatch shut and took up a position at the rear end, waving Emil to the front so that they could watch what was coming in all directions. And then the wait began.

 

 

The cold trickled his neck and over his forearms. It had to be something big if Lalli could feel it this strongly and it was still far enough that he couldn’t see it. So where was it? He was running in a growing spiral. He’d circled the tank once already trying to pinpoint the direction that the feeling was coming from. He thought it was north, but he couldn’t be sure. The presence seemed to surround him already.

Lalli stopped. Closed his eyes. Focused. There had to be some sign. Which way felt worse? Which way would it come from?

At least the feeling was the familiar cold of a troll and not the odd unease that he felt from those ghosts. He’d even asked Reynir if he felt anything, since the redhead seemed sensitive to the ghosts at least. But Reynir had seemed completely oblivious to the presence that made Lalli feel like someone had dropped a clump of snow down the back of his jacket. The Icelandic mage may have been stronger in the dreamscape than Lalli was, but his senses here in the real world were nowhere near as well honed. He seemed about as sensitive to danger as a block a cheese.

Lalli’s eyes popped open when he heard gunfire. _No._ He kicked off, nearly losing his footing as his boots slipped on the fallen leaves that lay rotting on the ground. _No. No. Nononono._ He ran for the tank faster than he could remember running in his life. He would not be too late. He had been too late once in his life. He couldn’t be too late again.

He passed by trees that were no more than shadows, flashes of darkness there and gone in an instant. Anything that appeared in his path, he leaped over without even processing what it was. He wanted to fly. Not just to have the wind pushing at his back but to leave behind his body and fly. His own harsh breathing was the only thing he could hear in the agonizingly long seconds it took him to run back the way he had come. That, and the voice in his head repeating _nonononono._ He would make it in time. He had to make it in time.

There was more gunfire. Not the slow shots of someone taking aim from a distance. It was the quick pitter-patter that came when you fired a hail of bullets to try to keep something away that was far too close to waste time aiming. The sun appeared through the trees. He could see the field. Then he passed out into it. _Where is he?  
_

His eyes scanned the scene in front of him even as he began chanting under his breath, still drawing closer. The runo came to him without thinking, which was good because the only thought in his mind was: _Where is Emil?_

The tank was where he had left it. Sigrun had her back to him. Her short sword was in one hand and her dagger in the other, while her gun swung at her hip, ready to be yanked up at any moment. Even as he looked, she hacked a reaching arm off of the giant they faced with her sword. That’s what it was: a giant. There was no time to be sure, but it may have even been the same one he had encountered before. The one he had barely made it away from.

 _Did it find my scent? Did it follow us all the way here?_ It had been weeks since then. But where was Emil? He had to be on the other side of the thing. Lalli couldn’t see him, but he saw a gout of flame. _That has to be him._ He had to be all right if he could still operate his flamethrower.

Mikkel stood at the door to the tank, one heel wedged into the doorjamb as he held his gun up at the ready. It looked almost like a toy in his large hands. Lalli would have to get between them and the giant. He leaned to the side to swerve to the east, still running nearly doubled over. He skidded to a stop behind Sigrun’s right shoulder. She spared a quick glance to make sure it wasn’t another enemy sneaking up behind her.

Lalli clapped his palms together with the last words of his spell, then slashed down through the air as though his arms were a knife. He threw his hands apart as he finished the runo. Wind rushed into the gap as though a waterfall of air had smashed down where his hands had passed, forming a wall between their crew and the giant before following the path his hands had taken: one side throwing the crew back toward the tank and the other driving the giant further away.

He caught a glimpse of golden hair as Emil fell to the ground near the hood of the tank, pushed over by the force of the wind. Lalli snarled and whirled on the giant. His luonto rushed out of him as if it had torn itself free, the ghostly lynx looking more like a mythical lion in size as it leaped straight for his enemy.

None of the others might see it, but they all saw what it did as the towering giant was raked by invisible claws as sharp as titanium. Grasping limbs were torn loose and bulbous heads crushed by unseen jaws. The lynx’s paws dug through the creature’s rotting flesh, claws catching in sinewy tendons that stretched and then snapped, twanging like bow strings that could be heard even over the thing’s wails.

The giant flailed, trying to strike back, but there was nothing it could do against an attacker that had no physical body to catch or tear. The lynx hung from what would have been the shoulders of the creature, if it were described in human terms, and raked at its torso with its back paws, digging through the mess of twisted bones and swollen organs that burst and ran as they were punctured.

When the giant toppled over, having lost too much of itself to keep its balance, Lalli watched in satisfaction as his luonto darted forward to grasp the spinal cord in its jaws and wrench it out of the gaping hole in the thing's middle, forcing the bones and the nerves within to snap in half with a definitive crunch. And just like that it was over. The giant didn’t move again. Nothing moved.

Lalli gasped for breath, looking back for the first time since he'd run up to the tank. Sigrun had picked herself up and had her gun at her shoulder, trained on the unmoving remains of the giant. She must have been waiting to see if she would need to take another shot. She lowered the gun as Lalli’s eyes tracked around the campsite, his shoulders still heaving. Mikkel had put down his own gun and was approaching Sigrun. And there, by the front of the tank and staggering toward him, was Emil. Emil in one piece and not visibly harmed and looking as though the worse damage he had taken was probably from Lalli’s wind throwing him down to the ground.

That was when Lalli’s knees gave out. He sank down into the grass, his legs folding beneath him. He had done it. The elation soured in seconds, though. Yes, he had done it all right--he had expended every scrap of power he could wring from his luonto, just as Onni had forbidden him from doing. The exhaustion was already tugging at him, but he held it at bay through sheer will as he lifted his head and called his luonto back with a desperate plea. The great cat padded toward him and in his mind, he begged it to understand. He couldn’t afford to lose his luonto again for days--not now. Not and leave everyone unprotected.

He held out a shaking hand, his palm up and welcoming. The ghostly lynx padded back to him and stopped just out of reach. It cocked its head to the side, licking a paw and brushing it over its nose. Then it pushed its head against Lalli’s hand, nuzzling him briefly before fading back into his body. As the warmth sunk into his chest, Lalli finally let his head sag, his breath settling into tired gasps. A spot of red appeared on the hem of his white jacket as he looked down at his own legs. It bloomed and grew before he wiped at his nose distractedly, smearing the blood away. He’d made it in time. He had kept his friends safe and his luonto hadn’t abandoned him for it.

Then Emil was there, grabbing him by the shoulders and rattling off in Swedish that Lalli was too tired to even try to understand. Emil wrapped him in a crushing embrace and muttered nonsense into Lalli’s hair. He should have understood some of the words but he didn’t. Lalli simply sat and let Emil hold him up and breathed.

 

 

Then normalcy returned as quickly as it had fled. Mikkel made sure that no one had any injuries requiring medical care. Lalli waved him away when Mikkel came at him with packing for his nose. Reynir and Tuuri came peeking out the door of the tank, their facemasks still safely in place. They didn’t step out of the tank until Sigrun gave them permission to.

Emil pulled Lalli to his feet and Lalli gripped his arm to keep himself steady. Emil kept to himself how hard Lalli’s fingers were digging into his forearm; he wouldn’t let anyone else know how much Lalli needed him at that moment to remain standing. Lalli kept his right hand against his nose, staunching the trickle of blood that was slowly soaking through the white tips of his glove. Emil’s eyes drifted over the red spots on Lalli’s jacket, then up again to the streaks of blood wiped across his upper lip.

Whatever Lalli had done, it seemed like it must have been too much for his body to handle. Emil had still been climbing to his feet from the first blast of wind when Lalli’s destruction had unleashed itself upon the giant. His eyes moved to what remained of it: scattered hunks of purplish-red meat and tatters of gray skin dangling from broken bones. Their bullets and knives had barely slowed it down, but this was what a real mage could do. Emil’s hold on Lalli tightened.

Sigrun walked over and stopped in front of Lalli. Her eyes searched his face for a moment. Then she put a hand on his shoulder, but more gently than her usual slaps. Maybe she could see how much he was leaning on Emil. “Good job, little twig,” she said. “We would have handled it on our own if we had to. But I sure appreciate the warning and the help.”

Lalli slowly nodded and Sigrun grimaced, her gaze moving to Emil. “Make sure he understands that he did good, okay?”

Tuuri wrung her hands in the door of the tank while Lalli gestured to Emil that they should walk over to the giant’s remains. Halfway there, he released his death grip on Emil’s arm and walked stiffly on his own. Emil followed right behind him in case it looked like Lalli might collapse again.

Mikkel was righting the camp stools while Sigrun returned her extra ammo and weapons to the tank’s rear. Lalli dropped to the ground next to the largest piece of the giant and pulled out his knife with a quiet exhalation. Emil squatted beside him, not knowing what he could do to help but not willing to move away either. So he sat and watched as Lalli did his work, carving the giant apart for whatever ritual purpose seemed necessary to the mage.

After a time, Lalli began speaking under his breath. The trip and fall of the Finnish was oddly comforting to Emil as he watched the grisly work. Or maybe it was just getting to listen to more of Lalli’s voice. He normally only got to hear a few words out of the scout at a time in Swedish.

Bones were removed and scraped clean, and arranged in an oddly beautiful pattern. When Lalli was apparently satisfied with what he had done, he pushed himself heavily to his feet and began gathering scattered bits of the body. Emil joined in once he realized what Lalli was doing. This at least didn’t seem to require any special training. They gathered dry sticks and branches as they built a wooden bier around and under the pile of body parts. When they were done, Lalli reached for Emil’s belt, taking one of the charges and peering at it. Emil grabbed it back before Lalli blew them both up.

He gestured to the body to be sure. “You want to burn it?”

Lalli nodded, his eyes glassy and his face blank. Emil held up a hand, gesturing for him to wait. They didn’t need explosives for that. He hurried back to the tank and reached out to open the storage. When he did, he realized that his gloves were covered in gore from piling up the giant bits. He yanked them off and pulled up the hem of his jacket to try to wipe the bloody fingerprints from the charge that he and Lalli had handled.

Inside the back of the tank, he rummaged through his boxes of work goods. He pulled out a bottle of accelerant and jumped down from the tank, snagging his gloves from the ground as he strode back toward Lalli.

The first thing he did was pull out his knife and walk around the pyre, clearing the grass for at least a meter in all directions now that he knew for sure that it was a fire that Lalli wanted. He knelt beside the pile, stuffing handfuls of the dry grass far into the branches they had wedged under the beast. As he sprinkled the accelerant over the pile, he looked the area over one last time, occasionally bending to cut away a bit more grass. The wind wasn’t strong, but the last thing they needed was to start a forest fire.

When he was satisfied, he pulled his magnesium fire starter from his belt and held the small striking plate in one hand with the metal rod ready in the other. He looked back at Lalli for an okay sign. Lalli looked as if he didn't even see the scene in front of him, but he gave a nod. Emil struck the two bits of metal together, drawing off a good spark that fell onto the nearest pile of bundled grass. It burst into flame at once. Lalli began speaking again, the words too soft to pick out over the crackling fire. Emil stood up and backed up a few feet to stop beside Lalli and watch together as the dead creature burned.

 

 

Sigrun had declared that they could all use a bit of rest. They would find a new campsite, because no one wanted to stay beside the smoking pile of bones and ashes, but that was as far as they would go that day. She turned to Lalli, peering into his face.

“You up to finding us a new camp, scout?” she asked, and he nodded. But when Emil insisted that he was coming as well, Lalli did not argue for once.

Emil still hadn’t removed his extra gear, so there was no need for further preparations. They set out as soon as Lalli had one last look at the map so that he had something to aim for. Sigrun had brought it out for them and held it up at arm’s length, since Lalli was covered in far too much contagious material to go anywhere near Tuuri or touch the thing.

They walked southeast, Lalli keeping a steady pace as Emil followed close behind him. Emil wasn’t sure if the slow pace was for his benefit or Lalli’s own. The scout didn’t quite look like he would drop on his feet anymore—not the way that he had right after the giant attack—but his face was drawn and tight in a way that told Emil that things were still not normal.

Emil himself had been petrified when the giant appeared out of the woods. He had been scared to face the thing in battle, of course, and also scared to think of how it had gotten past Lalli. The scout must have set out to find it, so why had it arrived at the tank without any sign of him? But his fear had been outweighed by an almost crushing sense of relief when Lalli had come crashing across the meadow toward them. When Lalli had taken down the troll single-handed, Emil had watched with an exhilarated pride--but it was a feeling that Lalli did not seem to share.

Emil glanced over his shoulder several times until he knew they were out of sight of the tank and its inhabitants. Then he took a few quick steps forward to bring himself to Lalli’s side. Immediately after the danger had passed, when he had staggered over to Lalli and wrapped his arms around that narrow frame, he had been satisfied just to feel Lalli in his arms and know that they were both still there and alive. Now they were alone at last, but Lalli seemed miles away. Emil didn’t like that thought, so he reached out and brushed a bit of Lalli’s hair behind his ear.

Lalli stopped and those grey eyes flickered to his face. The scout’s blank expression made Emil’s heart pound with nervousness as he wondered if the gesture had been unwanted. But then Lalli lifted one hand and placed it on Emil’s cheek for a sliver of an instant. It was gone almost as soon as Emil felt the pressure, and then Lalli was walking again. The warmth in his chest, though, lasted much longer.

Their slow scouting took nearly an hour by the time they reached the spot that Lalli had chosen from the map, made a wide circuit around it to make sure there wouldn’t be any nasty surprises, and then returned back to the tank to lead the way.

Lalli didn’t bother going near the tank. He stood alone in the field, letting Emil pass the word to Sigrun. She relayed the message to Tuuri as Emil headed back through the grass to the solitary figure standing in the rich afternoon sunlight. He wondered if Lalli had hung back because the temptation to stop and rest would be too great if he returned to the tank. The tight expression on his face hadn’t gotten any better and Emil, tired though he was, fell into pace beside him as they set out in front of the tank once more.

He wished he could do something. He wished he could insist that Lalli go back and ride in the tank. But even though they had come directly back from the new campsite to this field, they would have to make several turns and curves around obstacles the tank wouldn’t be able to navigate and Emil knew that he wouldn’t be able to lead the crew to their next destination without the infallible map in Lalli’s brain. So he did the only thing he could and kept walking, never leaving the scout's side.

 

 

When they made camp, Lalli continued to stand on his own at the edge of the small cleaning, and Emil felt more and more certain that he had been right: Lalli couldn’t stop. Maybe he was afraid that if he sat down, he would be too tired or too overwhelmed or too _something_ to get up and start moving again. So after helping Sigrun set up the remote sensors around the tank for when night fell, Emil went and stood beside Lalli again.

It was odd for them to be making camp at only two in the afternoon. To have the whole rest of the day to just be in one place. They didn’t have anything fresh for dinner and their lunch had hastily been abandoned. Emil wasn’t sure Lalli had ever eaten a bite of it. “What do you think?” he said softly to the boy next to him. “Shall we go find some food for Mikkel?”

Lalli nodded, so Emil quickly reported to Sigrun where they were going. She gave him a shrewd look which he didn’t understand until after they left. Then he realized that she probably thought they were slipping away to do something _other_ than gathering food. Lalli didn’t notice, though, when his face suddenly turned pink upon realizing what his captain thought he was doing at the moment.

Lalli’s eyes hardly lifted from the forest floor as they stepped over rocks and around small holes. Emil walked in a straight line so that he should be able to get them back, just in case Lalli really was as distracted as he looked to be. He spotted some mushrooms and pointed them out with a question. Lalli shook his head. Emil drew his hand back, looking askance at the perfectly edible-looking mushrooms. He trusted the scout’s knowledge far more than his own.

Birds fluttered by in the trees and they startled any number of squirrels, but it didn’t look like fresh meat would be on the menu. Emil didn’t have good enough aim with either a knife or a gun to hit one of the fast-moving creatures and Lalli didn’t even seem to consider trying. Emil continued to look for mushrooms, since mushrooms and berries were the only natural food sources he knew how to possibly recognize—and he hadn’t spotted any berries so far.

The next two mushroom caps he spotted only elicited more head shakes from Lalli, but the third got a nod. Emil crouched down and grabbed a large, fleshy cap in each hand then turned automatically and realized that they hadn’t brought a bag. _No wonder Sigrun probably thought we were going off to screw each other senseless,_ he thought with a rueful grimace.

“Forgot a bag.” That was all he said out loud. Lalli blinked and looked around. He seemed to have noticed for the first time as well and a faint smile ghosted across his lips.

“You think you can make something?” he asked Lalli. Even if they removed one of their jackets to carry food in, they were too dirty for the food to be considered safe for consumption. Emil looked down at his blood-stained gloves, wrapped around the two large mushrooms. He tossed the mushrooms off into a bush and then pulled his gloves off, dropping them to the ground. He tugged Lalli’s gloves off next, starting from his wiry biceps and rolling them down until Lalli’s white fingers appeared. He added the long gloves onto his pile.

Lalli was looking around as if noticing where they were for the first time. He closed his eyes for a moment as though listening to something, then set off with Emil following a few steps behind him. They wandered about the area, collecting dead-looking stalks of tall grasses. Lalli piled the long cuttings into Emil’s arms until they were so high that they were tickling his nose. Then Lalli began collect different sort of stalks from some of the plants: thin and flexible vines that were tough enough that he used his knife to cut them.

They returned to where they had left their gloves and Lalli dropped to the ground. He grabbed a handful of the grass, putting some back as he judged the thickness of the bundle. Then he twisted the bundle, folding it in half to form a loop. He picked up one of the tougher vines and threaded it through this loop, then began wrapping it along the grass to bind it into something like a rope. His fingers moved with quick, easy motions that made it unmistakable that he’d done the same thing many times before.

As soon as Emil saw the way that Lalli had stripped the leaves off the first vine, he sat down as well and began stripping the leaves off the rest of the flexible stalks, readying them for the Lalli as the Finn’s fingers twisted and flew. He twisted his grass rope in a circle, the vines now looping between the coils every few turns to hold the growing spiral together. He added more grass when the end of his rope started getting thin, and kept picking up new vines as each ran out.

“You really are amazing, you know that?” Emil said as he watched the rustic grass basket take form. It was hardly art, but if Emil had been on his own, he would have had to resort to piling mushrooms in his shirt or something. Lalli didn’t respond and Emil satisfied himself with watching the Finn as he wove the grass together with an intent expression. Emil had been born into a town and a life where, if you needed something like a basket, you simply bought it. He'd once scoffed at the Finnish for living their wild lives out on their lakes, not even having electricity or trains or telephones. But now the things that Lalli knew and he didn't seemed so much more impressive than having shops that sold fancy cakes or being able to buy imported fruits from Iceland.

When the basket was done, they filled it with every last mushroom they could find. They set out again, Emil carrying Lalli’s creation cradled in one arm. And this time, Lalli kicked through the shrubs with his eyes alert. When a large hare dashed across their path, Lalli’s knife flashed out before Emil even recognized the animal. It went on top of the basket as well. They made their way back slowly, with Lalli occasionally ducking down to grab handfuls of some green, leafy plant or another.

When they got back to the camp, Emil presented the food to Mikkel, who took it like it was his due. “Ungrateful Dane,” Emil muttered under his breath. He slouched back over to where Lalli was leaning against the side of the tank. Emil took the spot beside him. They watched in easy silence as Mikkel cleaned the hare. He seemed to have decided that this was a fine chance for a bit of housework. Reynir had been set to cleaning out the tank and they could hear the broom scratching across the metal floor. Occasionally the red-headed lunk would pop out of various doors, pushing a cloud of dust into the world.

While Mikkel’s food was cooking over the fire, he came over and wrestled Lalli out of his jacket. Emil shrugged his own jacket off and handed it over without complaint, along with both of their gloves. Mikkel scrubbed out the blood and gore and when he was done, he left the clothing to dry beside the fire. Lalli crossed his thin arms across his chest, his skin-tight thermal layer looking far too thin in the cold air. Emil would have offered him his jacket if it were currently dripping onto the soil. He probably had enough body heat to spare, compared to Lalli—who seemed to be made up mostly of skin, tendons, and hollow bones.

He leaned closer, pressing his side to Lalli’s as they watched the jackets dry. The blood stains were completely gone, to Mikkel’s credit. At one point, Emil suggested that they get decontamination over and done with since they had the time anyway, but Lalli mutely shook his head again. It wasn’t until later, after their early dinner was finished and being cleared away, that Emil realized why.

Lalli had picked up his dry jacket and slung it on. But then he picked up his gloves as well, slipping his fingers into the long leather sleeves.

“You’re not planning on going scouting?” Emil asked in disbelief. “Lalli, you’re exhausted! It’s not safe!”

Lalli gave him a cool look and pulled up his hood. Emil grabbed hold of him but Lalli broke free with a quick twist of his arm. Emil was about to protest again when a heavy hand fell on his shoulder. He looked back to see Sigrun behind him.

“Heading out?” she asked Lalli, who nodded. Emil doubted that Lalli understood the captain’s words but the tone was clear enough. “Stay safe then. And don’t keep us up too late waiting for you.”

Lalli grabbed his rifle and dashed away while Emil’s mouth was still trying to form an intelligent argument. “But—but—Sigrun!” he protested.

“He needs to go.”

“He doesn’t! We checked the area before we got here. It’s fine! And the sensors are all set up. Would one night off really kill us?!”

“No,” Sigrun said, still looking after the Finn. She turned to Emil. “I didn’t say that we need him to go scouting. I said that he needs to go. Let him.”

Her lips quirked up and she looked more like her usual self. “That’s a scout for you. They’re twitchy little fellows. Not really my type, but I like our twig all right despite that.”

She walked away and Emil stood uselessly. He was torn—a part of him wanted to run after Lalli, but he doubted he could catch him in the gloom. But he knew—he _knew_ , even if none of the others did—how exhausted Lalli was. He shouldn’t be out there on his own and no one else even seemed to care.

“Emil?”

He blinked and looked over to find Tuuri beside him, her facemask back in place. She and Reynir had eaten inside the tank, since he and Sigrun and even Mikkel probably still needed to go through full decontamination.

“Yeah, Tuuri? What is it?” he asked tiredly.

“Please don’t be mad at Lalli.” The words tumbled out of her in a nervous jumble and he blinked at her earnest expression. “He’s not very good at these kind of things.”

 

 

“What kind of things?” Emil asked and Tuuri wondered how much she should say. Impulse had driven her out to talk to Emil when she saw him waving his arms around at Sigrun. Watching him obviously agonize over Lalli running off alone, she had thought that maybe he needed to know some of the things Lalli wouldn’t—or couldn’t—tell him, even if he someday learned every Swedish word there was.

She had never known Lalli to have a friend. She’d been the closest thing to a friend he had, as far as she knew, but even she recognized that what he had with Emil was something different. He seemed to talk to Emil more willingly. With her, it was like pulling teeth half the time. But he was happy enough to talk to Emil that he’d bothered learning a new language to do it. Or at least part of one. She still wasn’t sure how much Swedish her cousin had picked up.

“He was four when our parents died.” The words were out of her mouth before she’d really thought them through. Emil was staring at her and she rushed on. “Not that they all died together or anything. And I guess it was just Lalli’s parents and my dad. Not that I should say ‘just.’ But my mom had died a long time before that. Childbirth. We didn’t really have many doctors in Saimaa.”

She was babbling. She bit her lip to stop the spill of words and then started again. “Um, but that’s not important. When Lalli was four and I was six, his mom died. She was a mage, too, and a hunter. She was really cool—from what I can remember. Strong and beautiful and everyone wanted her to go on hunts with them, even from other villages. She could call animals to her and it’s always great to have a mage around to help warn you about danger, you know?”

Emil was gaping at her and Tuuri really wished he wouldn’t. It was making her second-guess herself. She hurried on before she lost her nerve.

“She was killed during a hunt on another island. We got word that she’d been... Well, that she hadn’t made it back from the hunt. But there was no body, I remember that much. Lalli’s dad took it really hard. Nothing anyone said or did seemed to help. Then a couple of days later, we got a message from a mage in that village. They said that they’d found her body.”

Tuuri glanced again at Emil, but he had finally turned away and was looking off into the distance with a pained expression. It was the direction that Lalli had gone. “Lalli and I had been together at our grandmother's when we heard the news. His dad left first, and Lalli and I stayed with Grandma until after dinner. I remember walking back with him to his house. I can see it like it was yesterday: he opened the door and stepped up into the house. I asked him if he didn’t want me to stay. He shook his head. I remember wondering if he really even understood what had happened as he shut the door behind himself.”

Some parts of that day were still so clear in her memory, while others were completely gone—they felt like something that had happened to someone else or a story that she’d heard. She didn’t know if it was because she had been so young herself or if the shock had whisked the memories away.

“Lalli came and knocked on my family’s door maybe a half hour later. He’d... His dad had hanged himself. Lalli found his body in his parents’ bedroom.”

Emil’s head whipped around and he was staring at her again, but this time with a mixture of horror and disbelief. Tuuri understood that face. She’d had years and years to get used to it, but she still felt the same kind of horror when she imagined what Lalli must have walked into that day. She’d never seen her uncle’s body hanging in the house. They had insisted that she and Lalli stay at her house while the adults attended to things. But maybe seeing it wouldn’t have been as bad as the scene she imagined. Maybe it would have been worse. She’d never know.

Lalli had always been quiet. He hadn’t really played with the other kids in the village, choosing to stay in his parents' home or go off on his own unless Tuuri caught him and forced him to play something with her. Then he would follow her and do whatever she demanded without ever complaining, even if he sulked a bit. But that day he had slipped somewhere past quiet, somewhere deep inside himself where sound couldn’t reach him.

“Grandma always said that Lalli’s dad... Well, she said a lot of things about him. She didn’t want her daughter to marry him, but—I mean, they had to have been really in love, right? He was destroyed when she died.” Tuuri sighed. “So Lalli went to live with our grandmother after that. She was a really great mage and she made him start training with her, even though training doesn’t normally begin until kids are at least ten or twelve.

“My dad ended up dying of the sickness later that year. It was just a coincidence. Just one of those really bad years that happened sometimes in Saimaa. I stayed with my brother, Onni, in our house even after our dad died. But he was gone all the time because he was a day scout, so I more or less lived with our grandma, too, after that.”

 

 

Emil felt sick. He only half heard Tuuri’s words. He couldn’t get past the terrible image his mind had conjured up of a tiny boy with Lalli’s wide gray eyes opening the door to his parents’ room to find his father hanging from the rafters.

Emil’s parents were both still alive, if somewhat down on their luck. His aunt and uncle and cousins were just fine, too. He’d never known anyone close to him to die of anything but old age. He knew that Finland was a savage place to live but how could Tuuri talk about this like it was nothing unusual to lose not just one but both of your parents before you were hardly old enough to remember them? He swallowed hard to force the bile down.

“Lalli was always gone with Grandma. Always training. I think she wanted him to be as good as his mom was, or better. Or maybe just to prove that he wouldn’t end up 'weak' like his dad. I don’t know... I just remember always trying to convince him to sneak away and play with me instead. It seemed like he had to train _all_ the time and that was just too much for me to really understand back when I was six or seven.

“But we got used to things. Lalli wasn’t ever totally the same, but he did okay with Grandma, I think. Maybe all the training gave him something to focus on. Maybe that’s why Grandma made him do it—I really don’t know. But then when we lost Grandma, too... Lalli hasn’t ever talked to me about it, but I think he was there when it happened. Or he was the one who found her, or something. I tried asking Onni once, but the only thing he would say was that magic sometimes goes wrong.”

“When was that?” Emil asked in a weak voice. She’d once said that they had left Saimaa as a child. Had Lalli still been a child when he had lost the third most important person in his life?

“When Grandma died? Oh, eleven years ago,” Tuuri answered, after seeming to count in her head for a moment. “Lalli was eight then. I was ten and Onni was sixteen. That was when we moved to Keuruu. Onni couldn’t take care of us all in Saimaa, but in Keuruu, Lalli could begin training as a scout and I started my apprenticeship to become a skald. We would all have a place to sleep and food to eat as long as we did our jobs. And things were so much safer in Keuruu. It was for the best, really.”

Tuuri was peering at him as if she was trying to read his expression. She patted him on the shoulder. “Anyway, I just didn’t want you to be mad at him for going out there again. He probably blames himself for not avoiding a battle with that giant, if I know Lalli, and for the danger it put the crew in. He has to know for sure that everything is safe. That he's done everything he is supposed to do. I don't think he knows any other way to deal with the thought of losing anyone again.”

She gave him a hopeful smile. “I’m really glad that he has a friend like you, though. Someone to help take care of him. He hasn’t had that for a really long time.”

Tuuri looked away to the north, as though she could see all the way to Finland. “My brother did his best for us, but he was sixteen. He wasn’t ready to be a parent. So he wasn’t a dad to Lalli—he was just a full-time teacher. Even now they don’t seem to know how to interact with each other except as student and teacher. And me..." She gave a short, bitter laugh that he had never heard from the usually cheery girl.

“I thought I was doing a lot for him back then. I mean, I was ten. So I thought I was doing way more than anyone could rightfully expect of me. But looking back now as an adult, I know that I didn’t do nearly as much as I should have or could have. I absolutely loved my skald training, and I would go days and sometimes even weeks without checking in on Lalli to try to find out how he was doing in Keuruu. By the time I was older and tried to reconnect with him, he didn’t need me to take care of him. Now he just seems bothered when I try to. But he doesn’t seem bothered when you look out for him. So I hope you can give him a few days, even if he is a bit moody for a while.”

Emil nodded in a daze, staring after Tuuri as she retreated back into the tank. His thoughts roiled through him as he began to set up the things for the night’s decontamination. He didn’t join in Sigrun and Mikkel’s jibbing as they cleaned up and then sat around the fire taking small sips from a bottle of some old world liquor they had found in the one of the country houses they’d raided. He was more than ready to take a healthy swig of it himself when Mikkel passed the bottle his way, but Sigrun leaned forward to snatch it out of his hands. “You’ve got first watch, pal. Maybe some time when you’re not on the clock.”

When Sigrun started getting rowdy, Mikkel suggested they call it a night. Sigrun tried to pull rank and claimed that he couldn’t tell the captain what to do. Mikkel reminded her that he was the medic on their little crew and that he had the last word when it came to matters of health. She threatened his own health in response.

Emil sat by without even reacting as Mikkel propelled Sigrun into the tank, the Dane nodding indulgently as she continued to rail against his “tyranny.” The door clanged shut behind them, and Emil leaned back with a sigh, looking up at the stars.

“Lalli, come back,” he said softly. “Please come back.”

Leaning forward, his head hanging in his hands, Emil didn’t in fact notice Lalli's return until the scout stopped in front of him. The tips of his boots appeared in Emil’s line of vision as he stared at the ground. He sat up and there was Lalli, pale and exhausted but looking at him with an eyebrow cocked in question.

Emil stood up and pushed Lalli down onto the stool he had been sitting on. Lalli watched with bemused patience as Emil peeled off his long gloves and tugged off his boots, tucking both into the decontamination bag. The Finn shrugged out of his jacket on his own, but didn’t get up from the stool to pull his thermal layer over his head and toss it to Emil.

While Emil topped up the tub with the last kettle of water, Lalli watched from the stool without moving. Emil held out a hand to him and Lalli took it, letting Emil pull him to his feet. Lalli did step out of his pants on his own, saving Emil from having to decide how to go about that. They got through the cold rinse and the bath, then Emil bundled Lalli up in his dry warm clothes and sent him into the tank with only a single fleeting kiss on his forehead.

He put his jacket and Lalli’s clothes into the UV chamber. He rolled up the sleeves of his underlayer and emptied out the tub onto the dirt. He leaned it against the side of the tank, propping it at an angle so that the interior could dry overnight. Once everything was in its proper place, he stepped up into the tank and pulled the door shut behind him, leaning his forehead against the cold metal.

When Emil stepped into the sleeping chamber, his eyes went automatically to Lalli’s hole, but there was nothing there. His heart skipped a beat at the unexpected sight and he raised his eyes to look at the rest of the bunks—and there was Lalli, sitting with his back against the wall on Emil’s own preferred bunk. He had his knees up under his chin, his arms wrapped around his shins and resting atop his feet in their warm socks.

Emil didn’t dare say a thing. He walked past, his left hand skimming the top of Lalli’s knee in a reassuring pat as he went to wake Sigrun with a word and a touch. Sigrun stumbled from the bed, cursing, and there may have been a bit more stumbling and cursing than usual thanks to whatever it was she and Mikkel had been drinking.

Emil sat himself on the edge of his bed and pulled off his boots, tucking them away into the space beneath the bunk. He scooted back until he was beside Lalli, who still hadn’t moved or said a word. Emil slipped one arm around Lalli’s stiff shoulders. He tried once to get Lalli lie down on the mattress, but Lalli refused to be budged.

Emil sighed and tugged Lalli’s head over to rest against his. This much Lalli allowed and he leaned against Emil without complaint, even when Emil turned his face to press a quiet kiss against his temple. Then Emil settled in, stretching his legs out and crossing them at the ankles as he tried to find the most comfortable way to sleep sitting up against the wall. It would probably be an awful night. But one sleepless night seemed completely worth it as long as he had Lalli tucked up tight against him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next stop: onto Odense!


	17. Lesson 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Probably full of typos. But meh. This week has murdered me and I want to keep going. Action! Suspense! Ghosts!

**Lesson 17**

When Emil returned to the tank the next night to find Lalli once again waiting for him on his bunk, he decided not to question his good luck. He woke Sigrun and then crawled onto his mattress, tucking an arm around the boy and pulling him further back into the shadow of Mikkel’s bunk above them. He pressed a quick kiss against Lalli’s temple, then waited in silence until Sigrun had clambered down from her bunk and slunk off to the front seat.

When she was definitely gone, Emil tried to force Lalli to lie down with him. It hadn’t worked the previous night, but if this was going to become a regular thing, then Emil wasn’t that keen on sleeping upright every night for the foreseeable future. Lalli resisted at first, but when Emil kept pulling on him, he gave in with an annoyed huff. Emil rewarded him with a kiss on his cheek as Lalli let himself be tucked into the curve of Emil’s body. His head rested on Emil’s arm, which was flung out across the mattress.

Lalli was turned away, his back to the tank’s wall as though he couldn’t leave it exposed even in sleep. This left his back to Emil as well, though, and Emil took advantage of it, wrapping himself around Lalli from behind and slipping his free hand around his waist. His fingers worked their way under Lalli’s baggy sweatshirt on their own, finding soft skin and muscle to tickle. Lalli gave a brief and nearly-silent growl, but it wasn’t angry enough to make Emil stop. In fact his fingers continued their audacious journey on their own, creeping up Lalli’s ribs and rucking up his sweatshirt in the process.

When the impulse hit him, Emil didn’t question it: he bent over and dropped a kiss on the exposed skin of Lalli’s flat stomach. And since he was already down there, he went on kissing his way up Lalli’s chest, following the path his fingers had taken until Lalli’s sweatshirt was rucked up under his chin. Frustrated with the bunched up cloth, he yanked off the sweater that he'd put on Lalli himself no more than twenty minutes ago. He flung it somewhere in the shadows of his bunk.

Now he was propped up on his hands over Lalli, who was bare to the waist and looking up at him from his back. They were in a tiny sleeping chamber with three other adults, one of whom was Lalli’s own cousin. Emil was trying very hard to remind himself of that as he lowered himself on shaking arms to silently press a kiss against Lalli’s lips. Lalli’s arms snaked around his neck but he seemed to understand as well. They kissed slowly and deeply in the dark of the tank, and it was the most exquisite torture Emil had ever experienced.

Shifting closer, Emil felt something pressing against his leg and nearly froze. If he had ever forgotten for a second that this was another boy he was fooling around with, he was plenty aware of it now. The hard lump made him feel breathless: it was frightening and thrilling. It was also causing his own body to stir in response. He moved slightly, wedging one of his legs between Lalli’s and pressing more firmly against the other boy. Lalli’s hands tightened on his back, his nails digging in through the cloth of Emil’s shirt. He hissed Emil’s name before Emil caught his lips in another kiss, silencing him.

Emil rocked against the boy trapped beneath him, pressing himself against Lalli’s hip as he kept up the pressure on Lalli’s groin. Their lips stayed locked together, helping to stifle the quiet sounds neither could quite contain.

Finally Emil couldn’t take it anymore. He sat up and found Lalli’s shirt to yank it back over his head. With that flimsy barrier back between them, he rolled back behind Lalli, squeezing him so tight that it probably hurt the other boy. But Lalli didn’t complain. He just reached back to pat Emil’s head as Emil buried his face in Lalli’s shoulder and tried to think of trolls and the terribly repulsive teacher he’d had at public school and anything but how much he wanted to roll back onto Lalli and let his hands and mouth wander until they had discovered every last one of the Finn’s secrets.

 

 

If anyone ever noticed what happened in the dark of the tank, or the fact that Lalli now slept each night tucked safely against Emil’s chest, they didn’t mention it. Lalli and Emil were the last to bed and the first up anyway, so there was no reason for Reynir or Tuuri to be aware of any change at all to the regular sleeping positions in the tank. But some of Mikkel’s looks made Emil think that the old Dane was perfectly aware of the development and of the fact that he and Lalli weren’t just two battle comrades sharing a bunk out of necessity or even for friendly comfort.

By the time they had reached the small town of Langeskov (according to their old maps) a further two days after the giant attack, Lalli seemed back to his normal self. But he still hadn't returned to his usual habit of sleeping under the cavern beneath Tuuri’s bunk, though. The new arrangement between he and Emil looked to be a permanent one, for which fact Emil was most grateful.

He still had their morning excursions to look forward to, in addition to the moments they stole whenever they were out of sight from the crew: on the far side of the tank as Lalli stretched before running off into the distance, or alone in the back of the tank for a few moments while the others were still in the front seat. But now there was also the entire night to enjoy with Lalli in his arms. He could sneak a kiss onto Lalli’s mouth, slack in sleep, without any real concern that anyone would notice. Sometimes that alone was enough to satisfy him. Other times, he let his hands dance over the sleeping Finn until Lalli woke enough to either push his hands away or reciprocate. Occasionally the first kiss was all it took to rouse Lalli enough that he twisted his lithe body around and wrapped his arms around Emil’s neck to indulge in languorous kisses until they both fell back asleep.

Though Emil knew that Lalli was still worried about the ghosts, he found himself wishing that they would keep going on and on into Denmark. He didn’t want this to end, whatever it was, and he didn’t what would happen the crew returned to Sweden, as they inevitably must. That was one of the main reasons that Emil was less than thrilled when Lalli came back to report that they were on the edge of a small town on the outskirts of Odense. (The other reason being his usual nerves about following Sigrun into potentially infested areas.) That night Tuuri translated his full report of what he’d seen of the place so far, and it was decided that Lalli, Sigrun, and Emil would set out together the next morning to see what they could salvage.

Emil and Lalli at least got one last morning to themselves before they were due to set out for their excursion. Emil gathered the plants Lalli had pointed out to him while Lalli trained. Emil glanced at boy, still not sure what kind of "training" took nothing more than sitting still on a rock with your eyes closed and your face intent with focus. Because that was all Lalli did these days if he was left alone for more than 30 seconds.

When Emil had picked every one of the plants he could see in the area, he got Lalli’s attention by poking him in the cheek. The mage's brow furrowed and his gray eyes slowly opened, taking a moment to focus back on the real world in front of them. Then Emil gave him a peck on the lips and offered him the food bag. “What do you think?”

Lalli began pawing through the plants. “That’s wrong. Right, right, right, wrong, right...” he had quickly learned these words once Emil began taking over more of the food gathering so that he could use the extra time to train. They’d been essential—just like his final check was—once it became clear that Emil did not grasp the finer points of botany. Lalli discarded the offending plants back onto the soil, to decompose there and return to the land.

A month ago, Emil would have been flaming red with embarrassment over the number of apparently harmful plants he would have fed to the crew. But now it only made him grimace a bit during an otherwise successful preening. He liked being entrusted with the gathering, and even if someone else might notice the number of mistakes he'd made, he was proud of the large basket full of healthy greens.

When they had breakfast sorted (and after a quick roll among the weeds), they walked back to the tank, picking leaves and debris from each others' hair and clothes. They had a breakfast of boiled greens and leftover rabbit from the night before, though Emil didn’t do more than pick at the food as the prospect of entering another troll-infested town grew more and more imminent. He looked at Lalli beside him and knew that the scout would be there with him every step of the way, and the thought made him feel at least a bit better.

 

 

Lalli crept through the town alone, peering into long-abandoned homes and prowling down neglected streets. A sudden explosion broke the silence and he winced. That would be Emil, no doubt. He had pointed out a building on the east side of the town that was infested with trolls, before they had parted ways—with Emil giving him a disbelieving look—so that he could scout ahead.

Of course Sigrun hadn’t chosen to just give the shop a wide berth. And Emil probably hadn’t needed much encouragement to blow it to smithereens either. Shaking his head, Lalli completed his circuit of the town, then turned back to find the other two before they blew anything else up.

He heard them coming before he caught sight of them. Their footfalls echoed that loudly along the empty roads. Sigrun’s boastful voice was occasionally interrupted by quieter remarks from Emil. Honing in on their noise, he finally spotted them across a short alley between buildings. Emil saw him and a small smile perked up his lips. Apparently he had forgiven Lalli for leaving him behind in the city earlier.

Lalli walked up to the twosome, who had both stopped and were looking at him expectantly. He cleared his throat and announced carefully, " _Inte...fara..."_ He was used to speaking to Emil in his halting Swedish, but less comfortable trying it in front of any of the others.

“ _Herlig_ ,” Sigrun said back. He didn’t recognize the word as being similar to any he knew in Swedish, but her tone of voice told him the captain was pleased.

They were both smiling at him. It was still rather hard to get used to. Onni didn’t smile at him for a job well done, nor had anyone else at Keuruu that he could remember. Maybe he hadn’t noticed. But these two smiled at him, and Emil’s eyes gleamed with a quiet pride that made Lalli feel odd. He didn’t have any way to respond to that while Sigrun was looking on, so he turned on the heel of his boot and walked back the way he had come, crooking a finger to indicate that they should follow him.

Sigrun’s eyes lit up like candles when she saw the books inside the ancient shop. She began nattering on in Norwegian, but Lalli heard the word _bra_. It was good. He’d done good, he thought with a small smile as he followed her away.

Emil stopped him with a tap on his shoulder. Lalli turned to look at his Swede, who was frozen with mouth stretched wide, one syllable being tortured out of him. ” _Hyyyyy..._ ” His voice trailed off into silence, his eyes rolling away as his mind clearly scrabbled for the words that he had already forgotten.

Lalli knew that Emil had gone to Tuuri to ask her for some Finnish words. She’d told him about it because she had been so amused by the request. Lalli was doing far better with Swedish than it seemed Emil would ever do with the mess that was the Finnish language. She said she’d had to repeat the words over and over, but when she’d suggested that she could write them down, Emil had flushed and refused the offer. Clearly he had been too optimistic about his own memorization skills, though.

Reaching out, Lalli put two gloved fingers to Emil’s chin, pushing the Swede’s mouth shut for him. He shook his head as he walked away, but once he had turned away and tucked his own chin into the high collar of his jacket, he let his lips curve upward.

" _Ingen fara_ ," the Swede told him, as they walked side by side back toward the tank behind Sigrun. Lalli looked at him and raised an eyebrow. _"Du sa 'inte fara.'"_  Emil shook his golden head in the bright sunlight. " _Det är inte 'inte fara.' Man säga 'ingen fara.'"_

Lalli looked at the boy next to him, currently trying to correct his grammar. The strange foreigner who had somehow wormed his way into Lalli’s life and made himself at home without a moment of consideration. The reckless fool who still had ash in his hair and around his ears from whatever he’d blown up this time.

Lalli ignored the grammar lesson, but he pulled one hand from his pocket. _"Sanering,"_  he said. And he reached up to and wiped a smudge of black soot from the side of Emil’s surprised face. And walking through the snowy ghost town, Lalli felt warm and content.

 

 

When they got back to the tank to collect more manpower, the Icelandic hairball had shoved a piece of paper in Lalli's face. He peered at the strange rune. It wasn’t a type of magic his people used, so he had no way of knowing if it was correct or not. But he did feel a strange power from the mess of lines Reynir had probably tried to write as neatly as he was capable of. His eyebrows shot up of their own accord.

As far as he knew, Onni still hadn’t found a teacher for the helpless mage, but his dumb luck had worked out to his benefit in the dreamscape. It seemed that it may not have run out yet. Lalli tucked the paper into his pocket, hoping that the power he felt from it would keep danger away and not attract it to him instead.

That night, Lalli was to do his first check of the city of Odense. It was nowhere near as large as Copenhagen, so he should be able to find the hospital that was their destination and try to see if there was a route open to the tank. It would be a full night’s scouting, which he hadn’t done since they’d left Denmark’s former capital.

They had returned to the tank after collecting all of the books Mikkel deemed worthy from the small village, and Lalli was on the far side of the tank, waiting to set out once more. And he felt uneasy.

The unease had getting stronger again. It crept around him like a cold draft seeping in around heavy window drapes. Turning his head experimentally, he tried to feel which was it was coming from. It was the way that they had come, he was sure of it. The feeling was different from the prickling gooseflesh he got from beasts and trolls.

It had to be their slowed paced that was causing the problem. They had spent at entire day crossing the bridge from the Copenhagen side to this one. Lalli had been sent to check the entire span first, then the tank had inched its way across the long structure, weaving its way between (and sometimes over) long-abandoned cars. Then today they had stayed in the same town for an entire day, not even moving the tank once from their campsite.

“Do you need anything before you go?”

He had been expecting Emil to to find an excuse to slip around the tank to “talk” with him before he left for the night, but instead it was Tuuri who had interrupted his reverie. She was looking up at him with her empty smile. That was how he had always thought of it in his head. She’d adopted it after her dad died. It was the smile she put on when she wanted people to think she was helpful, but he knew what Tuuri’s real smile looked like. It was a gentler and rarer thing.

He hadn’t responded, so she went on to ask, “Any questions?”

“Are we going home soon?” he asked abruptly. He had no questions about the scouting. He knew the maps, and they were so close to Odense now that he could even follow the signs if he stayed on the major roads. It was one of those facets of old-world life that he found difficult to imagine: traveling between cities so frequently and having so many to travel between that you put up signs.

“Oh... You’re still homesick? I thought you’d been looking a bit...happier lately.”

Happier? Had he been happier? Happiness wasn't a way in which Lalli was used to measuring his life. His life for the past decade had revolved around doing his job and doing it flawlessly. Though he’d been lukewarm about the expedition at first, once he had accepted that this was his new job, he had done everything that was required of him.

But it was true that he went through his daily routines these days with more in mind than simply doing what he was supposed to do for his job. He had more to look forward to than failing to be a disappointment. He had his nights with Emil to look forward to. He’d always had trouble sleeping since he had been a child, preferring small, dark spaces where he felt safe and enclosed. Now he was getting used to Emil holding him safe and tight through the night. In his dreams, he continued to train with his luonto, but occasionally he would be dragged from the starry dreamscape by a familiar touch or a fleeting kiss. He didn’t mind losing the time to train.

He thought of nights with Emil and eating around the fire from the meals Mikkel prepared with his food and the proud look on Sigrun and Emil's faces that morning. Maybe he was happier. But still the unease was growing. The more that he grew attached to this new way of living, the more he feared losing it to the ghosts.

Lalli pushed away from the tank. “I’m fine. I don’t hate everything here.” He didn’t know that he hated any of it anymore. He could sort of communicate with the others. The crew appreciated his skills. And Emil...

“I just feel like we should go home.”

“Well, we shouldn’t stay long. We’ve technically completed our mission, this is the last stop.” Lalli blinked in some surprise. He hadn’t ever paid attention to what the point of the mission was, so he hadn’t realized it could already be over. “I think Trond is already trying to arrange for a ship with quarantine facilities to come pick us up.”

He hummed in consideration, not sure how else to respond. His thoughts were trying to slide around the idea that the mission was over without touching it. It was as sharp as a knife and he knew it was going to hurt him when he finally grasped it. It would have to wait until after his scouting was done.

“Sound okay?” She looked more genuinely concerned this time, and the empty smile was gone. Lalli liked her better without it.

“Yes,” he said, allowing a hint of warmth into his voice.

“You’ve done a good job, Lalli.” She looked up into his face, one hand on his shoulder.

He smiled faintly. “I know.” He liked to have it recognized by the others, though. Especially by his cousin, who still seemed to view him as a helpless little boy half the time.

When they finished talking, there didn’t seem to be any good reason for him to dismiss Tuuri but keep leaning against the side of the tank until Emil could get away. With a rueful sigh, he left Tuuri and began his long trek into the city. He knew Emil would be kicking himself once he realized Lalli had left without a good-bye, but he didn’t see any other way around it. The sun was getting low anyway.

 

 

The town wasn’t in too bad of condition. He found the hospital before full dark had fallen. It was easily the tallest building around. He would have needed to be blind to miss it. But that had been where his good fortune had ended. He didn’t even have to set foot in the curved glass building to know how bad it was going to be. He felt like he was being stabbed all over by icy needles that pricked along every inch of his skin. His hair stood on end as he prowled around the edge of the building, mentally noting doors and beginning to form a rough map of possible exits. This was going to be a tiring night. With a deep breath and one last longing thought of Emil sitting outside the tank with a hot bath waiting for him, he summoned up enough energy to help mask his presence then broke into the building to begin his check.

 

 

Lalli was bone tired when he trudged back to the tank sometime in the wee hours of the morning. He wondered if Emil would still be waiting for him. He needn’t have wondered. The Swede was dozing on a camp stool beside the tank, his head tipped back against the metal hull and his mouth hanging open slightly.

Lalli leaned over him and blew lightly on his face. Emil snorted and sat up suddenly as Lalli swung back to avoid getting his nose smashed. When Emil saw who was standing before him, he wrapped his arms around Lalli’s waist, burying his face in the scout’s jacket without a word. Lalli reached down to pet the sitting boy’s head for a moment. Eventually they would get up and go through the steps of decontamination, then crawl into bed together to get as many hours of sleep as they could before the sun rose. They would be able to hold each other tight again then, but even knowing that—even given the lateness of the hour and how much they longed for bed and sleep—neither of them moved to break the contact of that first comforting embrace .

 

 

Emil woke up before Lalli the next morning, which was a first since Lalli had started working as a day scout. His arm tightened automatically around Lalli’s chest as he blinked blearily at the sunlit room. Closing his eyes again, he burrowed his face into Lalli’s soft hair, but something still niggled at the edge of his consciousness, which was not yet fully-functioning.

His eyes popped open again. It was too bright. The light streaming in through the doorway from the front of the tank was not the weak light of dawn. He looked around the room and saw that all the other bunks were empty. Which meant that every one else had woken up already and seen him wrapped around Lalli as the scout slept tucked against his chest. _At least Lalli has his shirt on._

Emil lifted his head higher, craning his neck to see that the tank really was empty. Then he nipped at Lalli’s lips, whispering against them, “Lalli. Everyone is awake. We should probably go outside.”

Lalli’s only response was a muzzy kiss, which Emil was happy to take. But then Lalli pushed him away, wrinkling his nose and running a hand against Emil’s stubble. Lalli hardly seemed to need to shave. He definitely didn’t get bristly stubble after 24 hours like Emil did.

Emil grinned and purposefully rubbed his chin against Lalli’s soft cheek. Lalli growled something probably uncomplimentary in Finnish, then elbowed Emil in the stomach as he rolled off the mattress. As Emil rubbed the sore spot, he watched Lalli walk to the door, then pause to look over his shoulder with a stare that asked, “Well, aren’t you coming?”

They walked out once they'd both pulled on their boots. Lalli had taken pity enough on Emil to pat down the worst of his flyaway hair. When they stepped out, they found the rest of the crew assembled around a map. Mikkel and Sigrun barely gave them a glance immediately turning back to studying the map. Reynir smiled as vacantly as usual, and it was only Tuuri who had a suspicious look on her face as she looked from her cousin to Emil.

“So you two are finally up,” Sigrun said as she straightened and looked at Lalli. “Let’s hear what our scout found then.”

Lalli sidled over to the map, probably understanding enough of Sigrun’s words to know what was expected of him. His eyes went to Tuuri once, and then he began talking, his fingers tracing paths over the map as he did.

Emil listened as Lalli explained the possible routes they could take before breaking the bad news: the hospital was positively infested with trolls. He had confirmed troll nests on at least three of the first four floors, and the building had fifteen floors. He hadn’t bothered going higher than the fourth floor on his own.

They only had two real options: try to clean the building first, with Lalli, Sigrun, and Emil spending however long it might take to ensure that the whole complex was clean—while also staying quiet enough to not attract all the other beasties that might be living in the old city—or try to sneak in and sneak out without rousing too many trolls, who would hopefully be settling down for the winter.

“Why choose when we can do both?” Sigrun looked at the rest of them like they were the crazy ones. “We’ll sneak in, kill as many as we can while Mikkel looks for the goods, and sneak out.”

Tuuri opened her mouth to protest and Sigrun spoke before she could. “No, blondie. Before you even ask, you can’t go, too. I know there’s nothing worse than having to sit out a troll hunt, but you’re too much of a risk. At least if Mikkel gets his arm bitten off by a troll, he’ll just lose an arm. You’d have to be put down before you went all troll on us yourself.”

Tuuri seemed to be struck speechless, and Emil guessed that she had probably meant to question the wisdom of the plan rather than complain about being left out of it. The expedition protocol did demand that the non-immune members should not be left alone in the tank without an immune person to keep them safe, after all. But Sigrun couldn’t be stopped. It was decided that they would set out in an hour, after an early lunch (or late breakfast, in Emil and Lalli’s case). Sigrun claimed that: “No one likes killing trolls on an empty stomach.”

Emil could guess that she was itching for a fight after weeks in the tank with only one giant attack to liven up the trip. Lalli was too good at his job, apparently, because they hadn’t had to deal with a single other beast or troll in person while he was scouting ahead.

They drove the tank into the city, and Lalli went over all of the escape routes with Tuuri one last time, in case they woke up more than they bargained for in old Odense. Then the immune foursome set off to the towering glass complex that had once been Odense University Hospital. Lalli pushed open a metal frame door whose glass windows had been smashed to pebbles long again. It squealed as it swung on hinges unoiled for nearly a hundred years, and the crew hurried through the narrow opening as quickly as they could.

“All right, you two,” Sigrun said, turning on Emil and Lalli. “You start from the top of the building and work your way down. You’re young and in prime fighting condition, you have a better chance of making it back down if you run into trouble than old man Mikkel here, who doesn’t look like he’s ever run more than ten meters in his life.”

Mikkel’s eyes slid slowly toward her with a look of reproof.

“What?” she exclaimed. “You know it’s true. That’s why you’re coming with me. I have the best chance of keeping you alive, so that you can read words and things to try to find whatever it is we’re looking for here.”

She turned back to Emil. “The twig has at least some idea of the building’s layout, plus he’s a mage. He should be able to keep you from too many nasty surprises. And you were once a book nerd, Emil. So you look for anything promising and do the heavy lifting. We’ll plan on meeting back here in two hours, if nothing’s gone wrong by then. And remember, we don’t want to wake every nasty in the neighborhood. Blades before bangs, boys.”

And with that, Sigrun was off, eagerly striding down the hall as Mikkel followed in a casual stroll. He looked as though he were visiting a museum, gazing from side to side sedately. Lalli turned the other way and walked straight to a doorway that was marked with a dusty plate that showed a simplified drawing of a staircase, a single line climbing up and over and up and over above the word _Trappe._

Taking one last look back at the door they had come through and the bright sunlight outside it, Emil flicked on his flashlight, aimed it into the black stairwell that Lalli had already disappeared into, and followed him into the dark.

 


	18. Lesson 18

**Lesson 18**

With Lalli leading the way, they climbed up to the top floor. Emil supposed it made a certain kind of sense. They could keep heading down through the floors until they either met Mikkel and Sigrun or until the two-hour time limit was up. But that didn’t make him feel much better about creeping up and up through the pitch-black stairwell, the beam of his large flashlight dancing wildly over walls and treads as he struggled to match Lalli’s pace.

By the time they reached the 15th floor, it was impossible for Emil to hide how hard he was breathing—though he still tried. Forcing himself to take slow, deep breaths, he waited behind Lalli as the scout paused for several moments behind the door that led out of the stairwell. His legs were burning. Walking up the stairs was somehow completely different from pacing in front of the tank all day.

Lalli turned the door’s handle and eased it open, flapping one hand behind himself to summon Emil. They crept out into a dark hallway. Somewhere up ahead there was dusty light coming in from unseen windows, but the section that they were in was walled on both sides. Emil turned in place, shooting the beam of his floodlight down the hall in both directions. There were several doors on the side opposite of the stairwell. He looked to Lalli and the scout nodded once. It was time for the investigation to begin.

 

 

They opened every door they came across, after Lalli first paused outside it to feel for any sign of trolls. They made it through two ransacked supply closets, a room full of large machines Emil didn’t recognize, and half a dozen offices before Lalli frowned for the first time outside a door.

“Fire.”

That was all Lalli said as he pointed to Emil, gesturing him away from the door. Emil’s legs had recovered from the stair climb, but with that one word he felt shaky again. He nodded, though, and took a few steps backward, setting his flashlight on the ground and pointing its beam toward the door in front of them. Lalli pointed to himself, then the knob. Emil held up a hand, then bent his head to check his flamethrower. Once he was sure that everything was perfectly in order, he nodded at Lalli again. Then Lalli turned the knob, dropping to a knee and spinning away even as he pushed the door inward so that he wouldn’t be in Emil’s sights.

The room beyond the door was brighter than the hall, weak light shining in through the filthy windows. Emil pulled the trigger, shooting a gout of fire at the thing he could now see unfolding itself from the floor. It fell back, pawing at its flaming head and Emil released the trigger, pointing the flamethrower up to the ceiling. The clear signal was enough for Lalli to leap forward from his crouch on the floor. He had his knife in his hand, though it hadn’t been there when he’d pushed the door open, and he lashed out to neatly remove the troll’s head from its body. It collapsed into a heap.

Lalli remained in a ready position for several moments, but there was no further movement from the creature. He straightened up and shook some gore from his blade before tucking it back into the leather loop that hung from his belt. Then he turned and touched Emil’s arm with a feather-light touch. “ _Okej?_ ” he asked.

Emil nodded. Then he pulled Lalli to him by his jacket for a quick hug. When they broke apart he nodded again. “ _Okej.”_

 

 

Lalli was muttering in Finnish under his breath as he pulled open the hollow wood door to yet another office. Emil got an impression of movement in the narrow beam of Lalli’s smaller penlight, then Lalli had jerked back, hauling the door closed and falling against it with his heels braced against the floor.

Emil was already lifting his flamethrower. “Troll.” That was the only word Lalli managed to get out before the door bucked beneath him, throwing him across the hall. In the shower of splintered wood, there was no time to check on him. As his vision suddenly tinted with a red haze of fury, Emil sighted the thing breaking through the last fragment of the door and pulled the trigger on his flamethrower. It howled, grasping at the flames that crawled over its head and shoulders.

He lunged forward, kicking it in the stomach and forcing it farther into the room and away from wherever Lalli might be. His finger squeezed the trigger again, a torrent of fire spilling over the troll as it fell onto its back and writhed. But it didn’t keep writhing for long.

There were hisses and pops as its cavities grew too hot to contain the steam of its boiling body fluids and exploded. When even the twitching stopped, Emil took a moment to pop out the fuel cartridge on his flamethrower and replace it with another. The nearly-empty cartridge he hooked onto one of the free slots on the back of his belt in case he needed even that small amount later. For the moment, he wanted a full cartridge at the ready should they walk into trouble. Attempting to clip in a new one while a troll was trying to eat his face didn’t seem like a good idea.

The troll still didn’t move. Emil backed out of the room, misjudging slightly where the doorway was and bumping into the frame with one shoulder before he made it back into the hall. Only then did he dare look away from the smoldering remains and let his eyes search for Lalli.

The Finn had gotten back to his feet. He was wincing as he rubbed one thin hand over his back and the other pinched the bridge of his nose. “ _Okej?_ ” Emil asked, one hand slipping around the back of Lalli’s neck to cup his head for a moment as he leaned in close. Lalli nodded, closing his eyes for a moment as he took a deep breath. He shook his head like a cat shaking itself dry after getting caught in the rain. Then he strode ahead into the smoky room, beginning his quiet chanting again.

 

 

They searched the desk side by side, Emil opening the drawers on one side and rifling through them as Lalli flipped through the dusty papers on the top. He was embarrassed and he was angry. Emil hadn’t even asked what had gone wrong: how he could have possibly missed the presence of troll so close that only a panel of thin wood separated them. The truth was that he hadn’t even noticed.

The same unease that he’d felt growing for days was so pervasive now that he could hardly stand still as it crawled over his skin. On the fourteenth floor, he had begun reciting the prayers Onni had suggested, repeating them over and over as they slipped in and out of rooms. He had been worrying so much about the possibility of the ghosts being somewhere near the city that he hadn’t even remembered to check for trolls in the next room.

 _Focus._ Tuuri had said that this was the end of the expedition. All he had to do was ensure that they all made it out of this hospital and that Mikkel found what it was he was looking for. Then they could leave this cursed land and its ghosts behind.

 

 

Like so many of the desks they had searched, this one didn’t have much on it but an ancient machine, its blank screen caked with dust. Emil remembered from his studies that people in the old world had stored books and documents in machines like this, and he hoped that whatever research they were looking for hadn’t been stored in one. They wouldn’t have any hope of getting it out. There must be some handwritten notes somewhere.

He rummaged through the drawers, which were full of curious artifacts of a different age but nothing like the medicine that Mikkel had shown them or any kind of medical research. Just bleached photos of long-dead people, pens and pencils, a bottle of something that looked like liquor. Nothing of any help. After a quick scan of the shelves that lined one side of the room, they moved on again.

He walked the hallways at Lalli’s side. The mage was still muttering under his breath and Emil had begun to recognize the syllables. It was the same handful of lines over and over again. It must have been some sort of prayer. Lalli was worried. Which made Emil worried. He gripped his flamethrower, the leather of his thick gloves creaking under the pressure, and looked ahead down the hall.

 

 

Lalli ripped another drawer open, his hands leaving bloody smears across its front. This had been a hospital once. They had to have something like bandages. But all he found were useless little packets of plastic. He threw open a cupboard mounted on the wall, staring at the baffling supplies inside of it. The light of his small flashlight skittered about, clutched between his teeth as his hands rifled through the medical supplies. There was nothing like the neat rows of linen bandages that filled the medics' hall in Keuruu. His eyes hunted through small bottles labeled with printed nonsense. Only on his second pass through did he realize that he might need to look inside the various little packages.

He leaned closer and picked one up by its square paper front, bringing it up to his eyes as he turned it over. The back was a lump covered in clear plastic. Inside it was some kind of roll. He ripped the plastic and paper apart, and a nearly weightless wad of cloth fell into his hands.

His fingers scrambled at the end as he tried to pull some loose, turning back to Emil. The Swede was perched silently on the table where Lalli had forced him down. He wasn’t complaining, just pressing a hand against the wound at his temple to try to hold back as much as he could of the blood seeping down his neck and into his jacket. His skin was chalky white in the harsh illumination of the small flashlight. Lalli hoped it was just the pain, and not blood loss.

He pulled harder than he meant to on the old-world bandage and the thing tore apart in his hands. He looked down at it in dismay. It was some sort of delicate netting, not anything like the sturdy cloth bandages he was used to. He wadded the piece he had torn off into a ball and pressed this against the gash on Emil’s head, his red fingers slipping in between Emil’s own, which were warm and sticky with fresh blood.

More carefully this time, he clamped the end of the bandage against the wadded dressing with one hand and began unraveling the roll as he wound it around Emil’s head, slipping under the hair that was clumped together in wet red hanks. The thin material was fragile, but stretchy, he realized, in a good way that allowed him to easily keep the bandage tight as he wound it around Emil’s skull.

They had come across two trolls in one of the narrow labs, and Emil had kept the blow from doing any damage to his eyes or anything else vital, but he hadn’t been able to avoid it all together. Lalli had been fighting off his own troll and hadn’t reached Emil in time. But the cleanser had gritted his teeth, squinting through the blood already coursing into his eyes to ram his flamethrower down the troll’s maw and squeeze the trigger, sending a burst of fire to sear it from the inside out.

It had flailed about as if it could escape the agony that must have been filling it from within itself, and Emil had swung his flamethrower by the muzzle, his thick cleanser gloves protecting his hand from the residual heat as he’d used the heavy butt of the gun to take a crack at the troll’s head. Its head had jerked so sharply that it had looked like it might detach from the rest of its body.

Lalli had been watching too long and his troll had grabbed him from behind. If the long muzzle of his rifle hadn’t been in the way, it might have succeeded in taking a bite out of his neck, as it seemed to be aiming to do. Lalli had hunched over, curling into a ball to protect his more vulnerable front and clapping his hands over the back of his neck as he allowed his luonto’s power to shoot out, rising off of him like the blast of an explosive. He quickly reigned the power back in. All he’d needed to do was get the thing off of him. No need to waste his luonto’s strength beyond that.

His knives had already been in his hands when he turned, crisscrossing as he’d pulled them across the troll’s neck, almost completely severing its head. It had flopped back, but the spinal cord had still connected the skull to its body, so Lalli had backhanded the lolling head hard enough to snap those last vertebrae backwards. Then it had crumpled to a heap on the ground.

Emil winced one last time as Lalli wrenched on the end of the bandage, pulling it tight before tucking it under the parts he’d already wrapped. He smoothed his hands over that familiar bob, though no amount of smoothing could repair Emil's hair in its current state. Emil looked up at him in the weak light that slanted in through the broken blinds, lines cutting across the two of them at odd angles. Lalli pressed a soft kiss onto the bandage he'd just finished, wishing he knew some kind of magic that could heal a human being. Then he helped Emil off the examining table and pulled him to the door by the hand. They stopped in the doorway for a moment then both let go, taking hold of their weapons as they continued down through darkness.

 

 

The twelfth floor was clean so far, which was a relief after the past three. It was nice to get a bit of a break. Emil stopped outside of a lab and looked at Lalli for confirmation. The scout nodded, suggesting that it was clean. But it didn’t look like it had always been so. There were scratches and gouges on the outside of the door, and inside they could see tables and filing cabinets piled up against and obscuring their view through the door's small window. It looked like someone had still been alive inside when trolls must have eventually outnumbered healthy humans in the city and rampaged. A place like a hospital must have been overwhelmed in no time, as patients turned one by one.

Emil didn’t often think about those days. The times that they lived in still held horrors plenty enough, but things were so much better now than they must have been in those early days in Year 0--back when life had fallen down around your ears and your friends and family turned into ravening beasts before your eyes, and there was nowhere safe to hide from the hordes of monsters.

Lalli’s nod was all he needed to try the handle, but the homemade barricade wasn’t the only thing keeping the door closed. Given the way that the handle refused to turn, it was also locked by conventional means. He looked around, wondering if there was something he could use to break down the door. Sigrun would kill him if he used a gun or any other noisy method when they still had floors to search.

Lalli tilted his head as he watched and Emil explained, “It’s locked. The door.” Lalli stepped up beside Emil and put one hand flat against the door. He closed his eyes, and Emil got that impression that he sometimes did: that Lalli could hear something that he didn’t. It was like he was listening to the world to try to catch its secrets.

“Can you do something?” he asked. Lalli's fingers caressed the metal door handle, and he whispered something under his breath. There was a creaking noise and, though it was hard to be sure in the harsh illumination of the flashlight, the metal seemed to grow darker. Lalli twisted the knob and the metal broke off in his hand, flakes of rust falling to the ground as pieces of the lock clattered out of the sudden hole. Emil raised an eyebrow, then winced as the motion pulled at the wound on his temple. "Thanks," he said with a peck on Lalli's cheek.

Then it was Emil’s job again, as he put his much-larger shoulder to the door again and shoved. The feet of the table behind the door screeched across the linoleum floor as it moved and Emil wondered if he should stop. Then a chair fell down from the pile with a terrible crash and they both winced. Nothing moved as they stood frozen for several moments, but who knew what might have heard the loud noise from the lower floors?

Emil wondered if it had been loud enough to be heard wherever Mikkel and Sigrun were. If so, she would doubtless have something to say about it later.

They pushed the door just far enough to slip through. It was a bit harder for Emil than Lalli, but they both made it without having to risk any more noise. The first thing that Emil saw was that they had been right: there really had been humans in here, locked into this room until the end. He could tell because he tripped over one of them as soon as he stepped into the room. He managed not to shriek at least when he pointed his flashlight at the object under his feet. The desiccated remains were curled in a fetal ball. It looked like the person had been sitting with his back to the barricaded door, and there he had died.

Lalli knelt beside the body and picked up an ancient syringe, its needle long since rusted away but the plastic plunger still making it easy to recognize. “What’s that for?” Emil asked, squatting down as well and keeping his eyes and light trained on the little medical device instead of the husk next to it. Lalli looked at him and Emil felt his cheeks flush slightly. _Of course_. He understood slower than Lalli that the last survivor had probably injected himself with something that might give him a quick and hopefully painless death to avoid being ripped apart alive by the rash monster breaking down the door behind him.

Lalli stood and began moving around the room, so Emil started exploring from the opposite side. There were more machines than Emil could even guess at the purpose of, but a few had familiar shapes as they were caught in the flashlight. One with a lens sticking out of the top must have been some kind of microscope. And there were more of those plastic boxes—those computers that people had used for everything in the old days. He walked toward the back of the room, looking at all the strange items on the counters and peering into glass-fronted cupboards full of mysteries, and nearly walked right into the next set of bodies.

They were still covered in a rotting cloth. Switching his flashlight to his left hand, he twitched a corner back once, then quickly covered them up again. It was the last respect they’d seen in death and he could at least leave them that. This time he didn’t need Lalli to realize what had happened. Though they’d decomposed significantly, the bodies had already begun to show signs of deformity before they had died. But they had died before turning full troll. He glanced back at the body by the door, wondering if that lone researcher had been one of the early immune. Had he put his fellow researchers down when it had been clear what was happening to them? Or maybe they had been patients, brought in to experiment on. Had he killed them before the disease progressed or had they found a treatment that halted it, even if it couldn’t save them from death?

Would they really find something here?

“Emil.”

Lalli’s husky voice drew his attention back from the skeleton’s grasp. When he located the Finn in the dark, Lalli beckoned him over with a small wave. Emil got to his feet, brushing the dust from his knees as he walked to the large lab table that Lalli had one hand resting on.

Once Emil was leaning in against him, Lalli pointed down at the note in front of him. It was a handwritten scrawl and the ink had faded with time—though probably not as badly as it would have if this room had any windows that allowed sunlight in.

“ _Förstör_ _du?_ ” Lalli asked.

Emil peered down to see if he could understand any of it. Spoken Danish was bad enough. But he found its written form wasn’t as bad as he’d thought. He’d gotten somewhat used to the way Mikkel muddied his k’s into g’s and t’s into d’s. With a bit of substitution, it was like trying to guess at the spelling of a six year old. Some words were completely beyond guessing, but he could get the general gist to his surprise.

“I do,” Emil said, sounding shocked to his own ears. “Or some of it, anyway. This must be from our friend over there.” He nodded to the body at the door. “He says…it was the end for him. The city had…fallen or something? He…wrote out the results… 'Mailed' them to laboratories in… I don’t know. I don’t know where these places are. Dublin, Sapporo, Valletta…”

There was a folder under the handwritten note. It was a faded, rusty color and there was a string looping from its back and wrapped around a brad on its front. Even the slight pressure from Emil picking up the floppy bundle was enough to cause the degraded string to crumble into flakes of dust. He flipped the bundle open. The pages inside were still fairly legible. But he didn’t understand any of it. There were tables and columns of numbers and letters and strange diagrams. But if the note said it was research, there was no way he would leave it here.

He hoisted his pack onto the lab table to slide the folder into it. Lalli stopped him with a hand. The mage walked across the room with a purposeful stride and seized a plastic curtain that still hung dividing one side of the room from another. A sharp tug was all that was needed to free it from the rings it had been drooping from. Lalli carried it back, bundled in his arms, and spread it on the table. He took the folder from Emil, placing it in the middle and folding the plastic over and over until the documents were safe in several layers of plastic covering. Then he gave it back to Emil, who could admit that it was probably safer this way. He tucked it into the bag, which was more than half full by now from all the random things they had picked up on the upper floors.

They continued to hunt through the lab, and it was Emil who found the boxes of syringes that looked like the ones Tuuri had showed them all before they set out. But Lalli, despite not reading Swedish or Danish, was the one who pointed out that the labels on the different boxes didn’t match. Since they didn’t know which, if any, where the right ones that they needed, they were forced to pack up a handful of samples from each box with a different label. There wasn’t room to pack all of the boxes. As the bag grew heavier and heavier on Emil’s back, he hoped that at least some of this would be useful. He could easily imagine Mikkel mocking him for lugging around complete garbage for eight floors.

They had just begun opening the cupboards on the walls to check them when Lalli stopped and grabbed Emil’s arm. He nodded toward the door. It seemed they were going to have company after all and there was no other exit from the room, which went further to explain the suicide that they had stumbled upon when they’d come in. “We go,” Lalli said. “Now.”

Emil nodded, following Lalli as he dashed for the door. They wouldn’t want to be trapped in here with no exit if there might be more coming down the hall at them than they could manage. Lalli pulled his knife from his belt. Emil pulled his short sword as well. Better to run face-to-face into whatever was out there than to die in a room that offered no chance for escape. If it wasn’t too close, they might be able to make it to the stairs, which were only one hallway down and around a corner.

With another prayer, of which he had made many that day for a godless Swede, he squeezed out the narrow opening of the door on Lalli’s heels.

 

 

Lalli passed through the narrow opening between the pile of furniture and the wall without any trouble, but trouble was waiting for him on the other side. He called his luonto without thinking, lashing out at the troll that was lumbering toward the door as he flung himself across the hallway, slamming his back against the opposite wall so it would be protected. From here he could cover anything that approached the lab from either side.

“Emil, come!” he shouted, not caring about the noise. They were already past due to meet with Mikkel and Sigrun. They would go straight down the stairs, he decided as he watched Emil squeezing through the narrow opening into the hall. They would regroup and tackle the remaining floors together if they needed to.

Emil was almost free of the doorway, his left arm stretched out into the hall as he eased through the rifle on his back and the flamethrower that hung at his right hip, one hand probably clutching at it if Lalli were to guess. His luonto had finished the first troll and he called it back, wanting to save whatever strength he could. Because something was shuffling down the hall.

It was coming from the dark end of the hall, where the stairwell was. Lalli turned away from the brighter light streaming into the open area at the opposite end of the hall and closed his eyes. His little penlight wouldn’t help. He depended on his mage’s senses instead, reciting a quick spell for wind. He sent it roaring down the hall to push the creature further back. Emil stumbled to his side, his breath coming fast. “More?” he asked and Lalli nodded. Then he waved a hand, and Emil followed as they started for the stairs. They almost made it before the troll caught up with them again.

Lalli threw the door to the stairwell open, using it as a shield and thrusting Emil behind him. The troll smashed into door, then swarmed over it, four long arms reaching around the heavy metal to grab at the two of them. Lalli yanked his knife from his hip and slashed out. The warm body pressed against his back disappeared and he looked over to see that Emil had moved away from him, dashing to the other side of the hall. He couldn’t use his flamethrower at such a close range and Lalli knew it, but he still wanted to scream. Why couldn’t Emil have just ducked into the stairwell and stayed safe?

He hacked at another arm, then dropped to the ground, rolling back so that he wouldn’t be in Emil’s shot. A blast of fire illuminated the dark hall as soon as he was out of the way, but the troll skittered away and the contrast between the roiling flames and the rest of the hall meant that they couldn’t see even the slightest hint of where it was. Emil let the flames go out and with his flashlight forgotten on the floor, everything above their ankles was perfectly black.

“Emil, go!” Lalli shouted in Swedish, the only words he could think of as he held the metal door open again. “Go now!”

But it was too late. A strangled cry and a thud told Lalli that the troll had found Emil. Cursing, he lashed out with magic again, filling the hall with an eerie blue light. In its glow, he could see the troll. It had Emil by one arm and was flinging him about like a doll. There was another loud thud as the cleanser was slammed into a wall.

Lalli threw himself at the pair, slicing straight through the arm holding Emil and not pausing, his hand swinging back around to cut across the troll’s torso. But the damn thing had too many arms—it had definitely been more than one human once. Another arm growing out of its side slammed into Lalli’s stomach, sending him tumbling back with all the breath knocked out of him.

He couldn’t get any air. His lungs felt like they were stuck to the back of his ribs, but he stumbled to his feet. Before he could strike again, though, the troll began to glow a bright orange. It torso lit up from within like a lantern, then fire began spurting from the cracks between its bones. It shrieked and struck out at Emil, who had jammed his flamethrower right into its chest cavity. With its arms busy clawing at Emil, Lalli skirted around the tendrils of fire that encircled it and once he was behind it, he kicked it squarely in the back.

The troll fell forward onto its knees, sending Emil to the ground again. Lalli grabbed it by the head and twisted its withered neck. The three remaining arms sagged to the floor and Lalli reached down to pull Emil to his feet. When he grabbed the Swede’s left arm, though, Emil gasped with pain. He didn’t have to do anything more than that. Lalli ducked down and slipped himself under Emil’s right shoulder, wrapping an arm around his back and hauling his friend to his feet. Together they stumbled to the stairs and then down, down, down again.

 

 

They ran into Sigrun and Mikkel before they reached the fifth floor. They all spilled out into the sixth floor, heading for a ward that faced the windows so that they could see without relying on flashlights. As Mikkel peeled Emil’s jacket off of the arm that hung uselessly at his left side, Sigrun explained that they’d waited a half-hour for the two junior crew members before starting up to find Emil and Lalli themselves. Lalli watched as Mikkel forced Emil’s dislocated shoulder back into the socket, and though Emil screwed up his face and kicked out with one leg, he didn’t scream. Sigrun should have been proud of how well he followed her orders for quiet. Lalli was proud.

But when Mikkel heard about what they had found, he insisted that they go back to the twelfth floor. Lalli managed to catch Emil’s good hand as he passed by on his way to the stairs, giving his fingertips a brief squeeze as he went. He saw the grateful smile Emil gave him. _Just a little longer. Then we can leave._

They made it through the remaining five floors in less than an hour, now that they had two-and-half soldiers working together (Emil was only at half capacity, at best). Lalli felt less needed and began to flit to the windows every time they were on the east side of the building to check on the tank. With each additional kill, the trolls’ presence faded and he noticed the unease more. It hung heavy over him, like a scratchy blanket that itched so terribly that he fidgeted from foot to foot.

He let Emil show the other two into the lab when they reached the twelfth floor. There was no danger inside it and Mikkel was the only one they really needed in there. Lalli left them all behind as he walked to the window at the other end of the hall. He was so bothered by the prickling feeling on his skin that he didn’t at first understand what he was looking at when he pushed past the ancient hospital beds to reach the wall of glass.

It was like the way that the shadow of a cloud sometimes fell over the landscape, crawling across the ground in such stark contrast to the sunlight that it looked like a living thing. But the sky above them now was completely overcast and there was no light to contrast with the dark. Which mean that the shadow slowly roiling across the landscape toward the tank was real.

Understanding hit Lalli like physical blow. He was on the twelfth floor. He could not run down eleven flights of stairs and across the distance between this building and the tank before that shadow would reach them. That was all he needed to know to decide.

“ _Mighty Ukko, lightning bringer…_ ”

The words came easily as he twisted around, grabbing a fallen IV stand that lay on its side on the floor and swinging it at the glass. It didn’t break the first time, to his shock. Apparently the old worlders knew quite a bit more about making glass than his people did.

The first clang had been enough to bring Sigrun to the door of the lab with an alarmed yelp. “ _Lord of all the sky above..._ ” Lalli continued, as he pulled his rifle over his shoulder and aimed it at the window in front of himself, then pulled the trigger. The bullet did what the hollow metal tub had failed to do. A large chip appeared in the window, tiny lines splintering out from it.

“ _Let Tuuletar share her grace._ ”

Sigrun was shouting something and Lalli didn’t listen as he took aim and fired a second bullet. It hit the weakened spot dead in center, just as he had meant it to, and the cracks spread, splintering across the large pane.

“ _Let Ilmitar me embrace._ ”

He dropped the rifle—it wasn’t going to help him anyway—and he ducked down to pick up the IV stand once more. This time when he leveled a full-powered swing at the window, the glass shattered and flew out of the frame. The crashing and tinkling was almost musical.

“ _I offer you this prayer in earnest…_ ”

He spared one second to look over his shoulder at Emil, who had appeared at the captain’s shoulder. He knew it might be the last time. He wanted to say how sorry he would be if it was. He wanted to explain somehow. But there wasn’t time. And even if he weren’t in the middle of the runo, there wouldn’t have been the words to say all he wanted to.

“ _I give up all I am to you._ ”

Lalli put one foot up on the window ledge and flung himself out into the sky.


	19. Lesson 19

**Lesson 19**

Lalli disappeared out the window. There was no scream. A last few shards of glass fell loose from the top of the frame, hitting the hospital floor, and all Emil could see as he stared out at the heavy gray sky framed by raw metal and razor-sharp glass was Lalli’s expression in that last second. His usually stoic face had been a picture of unmistakable misery. He had looked straight at Emil for just a moment, the Finn's eyes begging for understanding and his jaw clenched, holding back whatever he might have said if there had just been the time.

 

 

Lalli prayed like he had never prayed before. The wind was the element that had always come the most easily to him and he hoped that affinity wouldn’t let him down now, but he’d never heard of anyone trying to use the wind to survive a 12-story fall. There were no 12-story buildings where he was from.

" _Your servant falls now before you, but rise he would to do your work. Darkness seeks to take your daughter. Deliver me that I may save her!_ " The rushed words were ripped away by the wind as soon as they passed his lips and the ground was rushing toward him at an impossible speed. " _From distant land, I call upon you!_ "

Then he felt it. The resistance had already been so fierce that his eyes were tearing, but now the air hit him like sandbag. For a moment it was though he’d already hit the concrete, but the gust of air was pushing him back up—even if it was no more than a few feet. It was enough to kill the velocity he had been falling at. The wind died down as suddenly as it had appeared and then he was falling again, but this time it was only from the height of an average house.

He managed to twist himself before he hit the ground, not wanting to break his arms or crack his skull on the pavement. Instead it was his shoulder that struck the ground first with a jarring crash. His forearms he kept wrapped around his head, his body curled tight so that he rolled through the impact. The world flipped over and over and it was all a blur, flashing white explosions of pain and light and dark. But he was alive. And the tank was less than ten meters in front of him.

When he finally tumbled to a stop, Lalli tried to push himself up to his feet. His shoulder failed him the first time, but he forced himself up anyway. Tuuri was in that tank. Tuuri, who he tolerated and grumbled about and resented and loved. Tuuri, who was his cousin and sister and mother. His _family_. The ghosts would not get to her before he did.

 

 

Sigrun ran to the window, sincerely hoping that her little scout and mage had not just taken the express route to Valhalla. It happened sometimes to warriors, but she hadn’t thought he was the type. Placing one hand on the intact window next to the gaping hole, she leaned out into the sky.

She wasn’t in time to see his landing, but she did catch the end of his tumultuous roll across the cement. He was holding his body in a tight ball, which was a lot better than the floppy lolling of the dead. "God damn mages," she said as she watched him struggle to his feet and begin moving. He wasn’t loping across the concrete with his usual grace, but he was staggering and stumbling with clear purpose. "He’s up. And he’s moving to the tank."

Something flashed by in her peripheral vision. Emil, who had been standing frozen in the door to the lab, was now hanging out the window beside her. Luckily his thick fire-resistant gloves protected his hands from the jagged glass still lining the frame as he clutched it, leaning so far out that he might accidentally go after Lalli whether he meant to or not.

"I don’t know what was so important that he couldn’t wait two minutes to try to tell us, but I guess we’d better follow him."

Emi’s head whipped around. "Out the window?"

She frowned at him. She liked her right-hand warrior all right. He was still a soft boy, but there was some steel underneath that malleable exterior, and she was pretty sure that in time she would be able to shape him into a decent Viking. But sometimes he sure made her wonder if there was anything beneath his perfect hair. His pretty little Finnish lover might not speak a word of Norwegian, but he still got things sooner than Emil sometimes.

"Are you insane? Did your boyfriend teach you some trick that would keep you from becoming a Swedish pancake on the pavement below? ‘Cause if not, we’re taking the stairs."

 

 

It was a race. A race between him and the shadows approaching from the other side. A race against his own body, which was screaming in protest as Lalli forced himself into something like a jog. Lightning flashes exploded in front of his eyes. He must have fractured something. Probably his shoulder. Agony radiated through his side and his ribs stabbed at him as he ran. But that wouldn’t matter. It wasn’t his body he would need to fight these enemies.

" _Tuuri!_ " he screamed once he got close enough to the tank. There should still be time. He needed to make sure she knew what to do. The door of the tank cracked open and her worried face peered out. When she saw it was him, she jumped down from the driver’s seat.

"Lalli! What’s going on? Reynir is freaking out!"

He struggled to get the words out around his ragged breath: "Tuuri, behind me. Come behind me."

She looked back into the tank, uncertain, then jogged over to him as he stumbled across the last few meters. She was wearing her face mask at least, but once she got close, Lalli still had to warn her: "Not too close. Don’t touch me. Trolls."

He put a hand against the back of the tank, leaning against it so he didn’t fall. The shadows were so close now that he could have thrown a stone and hit them, if they'd had bodies to hit. But they were slowing down as they drew near. So he began his instruction to Tuuri as he limped alongside the vehicle toward the front.

"As soon as everyone else is in the tank, head back to the coast. Go around the two towns we avoided on the way here, and you should be all right till Nyborg. Once you get there, just go as slow and quiet as you can so you don’t draw any attention."

She opened her mouth and Lalli stopped her with a harsh gesture. His chest heaved painfully. He had to get all the words out now.

"There’s a spit of land just south of the bridge. Undeveloped, should be clean. Talk to the foreigners on the radio the first chance you get, tell them to meet you there with a ship. Any ship. Make sure they understand and come at once."

They had reached the door to the tank, still slightly ajar. Inside, Lalli saw Reynir with his elbows on the dashboard and his hands clasped in front of him as he appeared to pray with a desperate expression. Lalli held the door open for Tuuri, waving her back inside. "Tell Reynir…to do his best."

She didn’t climb back in, instead trying to grab at him—which forced him to jerk back with a wince, biting back a groan of pain. "Lalli, what happened in there? Why are you talking like this?"

He looked back at the towering glass building, now pockmarked with a single dark hole in its reflective face. "The ghosts are here." As he looked, the door to the hospital flew open and Emil crashed out, followed immediately by Sigrun and a few moments later by Mikkel in his brisk jog. Relief and fear smashed into one another as Lalli watched the crew running toward the horde coming right over his shoulder. "You have to leave this place. You know what matters."

"You matter, Lalli. You matter to me." Tuuri’s quiet words drew Lalli’s eyes back to his smaller cousin. Her lower lip stuck out as she tried to keep it from wobbling. "I'm not leaving you behind here to fight them, if that is what you're trying to suggest!"

He felt his mouth twist into a sad smile at her outrage. "Tell the others to get in the tank. No time for decontamination, just get them in the back and go. I'll..." He struggled to come up with one of those meaningless lies that people told one another. "I'll catch up as soon as I can, but you know the rules. If I don't catch up in time, you leave me." Then he risked shoving Tuuri into the tank with one hand against her back, hoping he didn't have any troll guts on his gloves. At least she didn't seem to understand that he'd never had any intention of catching up to the tank in the first place.

Lalli had hardly turned away when the first shade reached him. _When had they gotten so close?_ There was a sudden flare of heat against his leg, then an electric shock ran through him, knocking him back several feet. On his back again, he looked up wildly through the disarray of his hair and saw that the shade had also been thrown away from him. The shock had hurt like hell, but not in the way that spirits normally did, and his pocket still felt like there was a live coal in it. He fumbled to pull out whatever was scorching his thigh.

It was the paper that Reynir had given him. He had almost forgotten about the Icelander’s attempted rune-making. Like everything else Reynir seemed to do, it had been both effective and disastrous. It probably wasn’t supposed to hurt him as much as it hurt the ghost, but at least it had given Lalli a moment and a few feet of space to begin his own counterattack.

Closing out all of the pain from his probably fractured shoulder and the numb tingling that lingered in his fingertips, he heaved himself up against the tank and slid his back up the metal panel till he was standing again. The ghosts blended together so completely in their shady wisps of darkness that he couldn’t even count them to be sure, but there had to be something like fifty ranged around him. Some were beginning to move toward the other side of the tank, and Lalli didn’t know if Reynir’s wishful prayers would be as effective as his runes in keeping them away.

Lalli lurched past the one that had been shocked alongside him and planted himself in front of the tank’s hood, blowing several back with a wave of his arm. It was a relief to know that the wind hadn’t abandoned him yet, still responding even without a spell. The ghosts wavered, billowing back like a sheet hung in the wind to dry, but their feet—if they had feet—didn’t move from where they were rooted. Within moments they loomed back in around him. That was when Lalli summoned his luonto.

One large beast wouldn’t be enough for this, even if he could summon something like the huge lynx that had taken out the giant only so many days before. Instead he split his concentration like he had done in the building in Copenhagen, where everything had begun to go wrong, sending out manifestation after manifestation. Each was no larger than a real lynx, but the ghostly cats continued to pour out of him, tearing, leaping, punching through the ghosts.

The shades made no noise, but Lalli sensed their anger and hatred for the way he was hurting them. If a hiss could be felt instead of heard, then the terrible buzzing he felt in his bones must be them hissing at him in fury. A door clanged behind him but he couldn’t spare the focus to look behind himself. Somewhere, underneath his concentration, he recognized the jumble of precious voices, but whatever was happening could happen without him. This—this last stand—was something only Lalli could do.

 

 

Sigrun and Mikkel made it nearly back to the tank before they collapsed. The captain had been running in front of Emil, so he had a perfect view as she faltered and then crumpled into a pile on the ground, not even having the chance to throw up an arm to break her fall. Another thump behind him moments later told him that Mikkel had likely suffered much the same fate.

"Shit! Shit, shit, shit!" He cursed to himself. He might be able to drag Sigrun, but there was no way he could move Mikkel on his own. He hadn’t factored in the way that they’d collapsed the last time they faced the angry ghosts, though he had been sure that was what was coming for the crew. He didn’t think anything else could have made Lalli desperate enough to jump out a window.

Shouting apologies to Sigrun and Mikkel, even if they couldn’t hear them, he dashed toward the tank. He could only see an edge of Lalli’s face and one outstretched arm around the large metal frame. He was obviously doing something mage-y, and Emil wasn’t going to interrupt now. If the ghosts didn’t kill him, Lalli would. Emil just wished he could _see_ the ghosts. He could feel the same sick feeling he had the last time, but he didn’t know where they were coming from or which way he should turn to avoid them.

Slamming into the tank, he yanked open the driver’s side door. "Sigrun and Mikkel passed out again!" He shot the words off to Tuuri, who was clutching the steering wheel with both hands while Reynir sat beside her with his eyes closed and hands clasped as though in prayer.

"Tuuri!" he said seriously, trying to get the girl to look at him and away from the windshield, where they could both see Lalli: a lone, fragile figure between them and whatever was out there. " _I can’t carry them this far_. I need you to back up the tank to them, carefully, without running them over."

"What!?" She finally looked at him. "I can’t! But what if I—!?"

"Just take it nice and slow. I’ll walk behind you so just watch my signals. I’ll tell you when to stop." She looked torn, turning back to look at Lalli again as if she couldn’t help doing so. "We have to do this, Tuuri! We can’t leave them and we need to get out of here!"

He slammed the door shut again and ran to the back of the tank, putting himself where he could see Tuuri’s terrified face in the tank’s one remaining rear-view mirror. He waved her on encouragingly and she must have seen the necessity at last because the tank’s engine turned over with a roar.

 

 

Lalli flinched when the tank came to life less than a hand's breadth from his back. He had no choice but to trust that Tuuri wasn’t about to run him over. Narrowing his eyes, he sent his spirit cats after a few shades that were trying to sidle past the others to get around his attacks. He already felt the thick blood trickling over his upper lip, tasted the bitter tang of iron as it ran into his gritted teeth and mixed with his saliva. He spat once and took aim again at the first shade that had attacked him. It seemed to be the ringleader and the most determined of them.

The vibrating of the engine that he had felt through his back began to move away. _Good_ , Lalli thought. _They should go. They should get away._ He refused to let himself feel anything but glad as the tank pulled away and left him alone to face the ghosts. _This is what I was always meant to do. This is what mages do. They give up their lives so others can live. Tuuri will live. Emil will live. They’ll take back what we found and maybe save even more lives from falling to the illness, then so many more will live. Because of me._  Lalli refused to feel sad or frightened or alone. He would do his duty.

 

 

Emil frantically shook his hands from side to side, and Tuuri did stop in time before she ran over either him or Sigrun lying on the ground. Emil threw open the door on the back of the tank before the engine had even stopped rumbling. He looped his arms under Sigrun’s shoulders, trying to pull her up. He managed to get her half off the ground but then his left arm failed him. He lost his balance and went tumbling over, hurting himself more than he should have as he tried not to fall on top of the unconscious woman.

"Tuuri!" He shouted as he shoved himself up. "I need you or Reynir to get out here!"  _Or maybe both_. He still wasn’t sure about moving Mikkel.

He dragged Sigrun’s body, stretching her out flat on her back as the tank door clanged open and shut. Footsteps hurried toward him. "I’ll take this end, so grab her legs," he said without even bothering to check who he was talking to.

As he straightened up with his arms wrapped under Sigrun’s and his own shoulder screaming, Emil risked looking past Tuuri where she was heaving the captain’s feet off the ground. Lalli was still standing where they had left them, alone upon the ancient concrete road. _At least he’s still standing._

Emil knew that the longer they took, the longer Lalli would have to battle whatever it was he faced. He hoisted Sigrun’s limp body up and they got her into the back of the tank without much trouble. Next came Mikkel. Even with he and Tuuri working together, they couldn’t lift the large Dane off the ground. In the end, they had to each hold one of his arms and slowly drag him to the tank. It was torture on Emil’s strained shoulder, but every time he considered resting for a moment, he thought of what Lalli must be experiencing and he gave another angry tug on Mikkel’s thick arm.

They reached the back of the tank and Mikkel’s head hit the bumper with a thump. "Climb up," Emil grunted. Tuuri clambered up into the tank and hauled on one of Mikkel’s arms while Emil lifted him from the other side. They got his head and shoulders up against the lip of the tank, but when Emil climbed up beside Tuuri and they tried to pull him the rest of the way in, his shoulder couldn’t take it. He couldn’t even keep his grip any longer.

"Shit!" He jumped back down to the ground and tried wrapping his arms around Mikkel’s waist. His hands barely met in the middle and he couldn’t put any power into the lift.

"Whatever Reynir is doing, it better be goddamn important!" he shouted as he crouched under Mikkel, pushing up against the larger man with all the strength in his legs. It was like trying to lift an elk on his back. He was sweating and swearing, but Mikkel slowly rose and with Tuuri pulling at the other end, they got his torso up into the tank as well. Emil climbed up into the storage compartment, his limbs shaking. He took an arm again, then he and Tuuri hauled with all their might until Mikkel’s legs were dragged up over the rim of the tank.

Emil shoved his feet in the last few feet, forcing Mikkel’s legs to bend so that they would be able to close the door. Then he finally looked at Tuuri. She was red-faced and sweating and, he realized for the first time, crying. Her cheeks were shiny with tears, though she didn’t make a sound.

"What is it?" he gasped, easing himself down from the tank again with trembling arms.

She shook her head. "We have to go now."

"I know. We’ll get out of here. Don’t worry."

"But Lalli…"

"I’m going to get him now. Then you’ll get us out of here." He tried to smile, but he could feel that shaking, too. "It’ll be okay, Tuuri."

"I don’t think…I don’t think he’s coming," she choked out, scrubbing a hand across her face.

The words refused to make sense. Emil was stupid with exhaustion—too stupid to even feel properly scared. He knew they were under attack from something, but all he could let himself think about was getting everyone into the tank so that Tuuri could drive them the hell out of this place. And everyone included Lalli. Because the next part of his plan involved wrapping himself around Lalli and sleeping for the next two days straight.

"He’s coming, Tuuri. Even if I have to pick him up and carry him. So turn this thing around and come get us." He didn’t wait for a response, stumbling away from the tank as quickly as he could manage.

Lalli stood straight in the face of the grey sky, his arms lashing out at something Emil couldn’t see. He was reminded of the orchestra his parents had taken him to see once in Mora, when he had been a boy. The music they had played had been like magic to him as a seven-year-old child. He had never experienced anything like it: the tingling numbness that suffused his hands and face, the chills that ran down his spine. And there had been the conductor, standing between the audience and the musicians, directing that magical sound. Emil had skipped through the cozy, lamp-lit streets of Mora that night, waving his arms like the conductor all the way back to his aunt and uncle’s house, where they were staying for the week.

But this magic of Lalli’s wasn’t beautiful to him. When he reached Lalli’s side, he almost recoiled from the shock of what it had done to his silver-spun Finn. Dark red blood ran from Lalli’s ear, down his neck and into the large, black collar around his neck. He’d been bleeding from the nose again and obviously wiped at it in annoyance, because the red smear spread from one corner of his mouth and up over his other cheek. His skin was chalky and pale against all that red, and his bared teeth were tinged with it. Either the blood from his nose had filled his mouth or he was bringing up blood from the inside.

"Lalli, it’s time to go!" He grabbed the Finn by the shoulder, but Lalli shrugged him off with a growl. Emil looked behind them once to check that Tuuri was indeed coming back to get them. Then he slung his arms around Lalli’s waist and began to drag him backward.

The mage struggled as wildly as a cat thrown into a cold bath, cursing at him in Finnish. Emil could tell that much from the tone. Then Lalli managed to put together a string of words he could understand: "I can’t go! I must do this!"

"No, you mustn’t!" Emil kept pulling, his right hand wrapped around his left wrist because he couldn’t even force his left hand to grip anything any longer. His arms stayed locked around Lalli’s waist as he bellowed, "You’ve done enough! Stop, Lalli! We have to go now!"

Lalli went limp in his arms, seeming to give up in some way. He stared ahead for a moment, his eyes tracking across the landscape that looked completely empty to Emil. But he knew it wasn’t: even he could feel the bile clawing up his throat at the unseen spirits that seethed with hatred all around them. He tightened his hold on Lalli.

"Emil."

His name on Lalli’s lips was almost too soft to hear. The Finn sagged against his chest and turned his head, his cold cheeked pressed against Emil’s face as those pale lips moved against his skin. "I am sorry." Then he closed his eyes.

His back hunched and Emil could feel the strain of his muscles as Lalli seemed to reach into himself--then let something go. It rushed outward like an explosion and yet felt softer than the slightest breeze to Emil, who was as insensitive to magic as the next to Swede. It was less noticeable than the disappearance of the prickling discomfort that he’d felt since they’d come out of the building. The ghosts must be gone.

And Lalli’s body sagged in Emil’s arms, his heavy head lolling back to land on Emil’s shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god, I'm not mean enough to do that twice in a row, am I? I mean, I'm cruel enough to do it to Emil, but not you. So click next, good reader!


	20. Lesson 20

**Lesson 20**

"They’re gone!"

Reynir’s tone was so wondering that Tuuri turned to him, slamming on the breaks so that she didn’t run over Emil and Lalli by accident. "What is gone?"

"The ghosts! They're gone!" His clasped hands loosened, falling to the dashboard as he stood up from the seat and leaned forward to stare out the window. "Your cousin must have done something... They're all gone!"

He turned and threw his arms around her, smashing her face into his sternum as he bounced up and down. "He did it! Lalli did it!"

 _He did it?_ Hope welled up in her chest. Now they could all leave together. She had known that she wouldn't have a choice if Emil failed to get Lalli into the tank. They couldn't risk the whole crew getting attacked and losing whatever precious research they had managed to collect. She was the only one who actually knew how to drive the tank, and Lalli was the only one who could possibly fight the ghosts. Once Mikkel and Sigrun were in the tank she hadn't been able to deny it any longer: she was going to have to abandon Lalli, possibly to his doom, for the sake of this expedition that she had convinced him to come on.

But now things might be different. Ducking her head under Reynir's long arms, she twisted to look out the windshield. She stared at the scene in front of the tank. Then she ripped herself free from Reynir's hands and rushed to the door, nearly falling to her knees as she stumbled out across the ancient concrete. Her breath caught in her throat. Emil had fallen to the ground and his head was hanging forward. His bloodied hair fell in clumps, obscuring his face, and he was leaning over a body wearing Lalli's long boots. He was shouting Lalli's name. And Tuuri felt like she might be sick.

She grabbed Emil by the shoulder, wrenching him around as she dropped to the ground beside him. When Emil fell backward, the body slid lower on his knees and she finally saw Lalli's face. "Oh, _Lalli_..."

Blood had dribbled from the corner of his slack mouth, running down his chin and dripping onto the breast of his white jacket. There was more blood smeared across his cheeks and running down his neck. "What happened?" she demanded, trying to pull her cousin away so that she could check him for herself. Emil refused to let him go.

"I don't know!" Emil bent over again, pressing his face to Lalli’s mouth. "He did something--something magic--and then he just collapsed. I can't even tell if he's breathing!" He turned wild eyes on her. What did he mean, not breathing? She gaped at him.

"He must be breathing! He just fainted, didn't he!?"

"I'm telling you I don't know!" Emil glared back at her, and Tuuri was left speechless. "Mikkel," the Swede suddenly said. "He'll know what to do. We need to get him to Mikkel!"

 

 

Emil didn't wait for Tuuri to respond. He struggled to climb to his feet while keeping hold of Lalli. The Finn normally seemed to be half his weight, but now the frail body on top of him felt heavier than Emil could bear. He forced his shaking legs to lock under himself and heaved the Finn up until Lalli’s head and arms hung limply over his shoulder. He shuffled back to the tank, his eyes fixed on it as he shouted behind himself, "Tuuri, open the back! Open the door for me!"

He barely made it there before Tuuri darted past him, pulling open the door so that he could ease Lalli’s body into the storage room to one side of Sigrun and Mikkel. He kept a hand curled around the back of that familiar head, making sure that it didn’t get banged against the steel plate floor. Tuuri was shaking Mikkel’s thick shoulder and saying, "Wake up! Wake up, please. We need your help!"

Emil still didn’t look at her. His eyes couldn’t see anything but Lalli. He smoothed the silvery blond hair back from Lalli’s quiet face, dabbed away the fresh blood around his mouth. He held shaking fingers over those open lips. Was that the warmth of a breath against his fingers?

It wasn't right. Lalli did more than anyone. It should have been someone useless, like Reynir or Emil himself, screwing up on the job and dying out here in the horrors of the silent world. Not Lalli. Lalli was too good to screw up. _But he didn't screw up, did he?_ Whatever he had done, he had seemed to do it of his own will, knowing what it meant. _I’m sorry._ That was the last thing he’d said to Emil. He had known what he was doing.

Mikkel’s groggy voice rumbled behind them, and Emil heard the rustle of cloth as Tuuri must have helped the large man sit up. Then Mikkel pushed Emil aside with a firm but gentle hand so that he could lean over the boy stretched out on the ground. His eyes still looked heavy, but he focused dutifully on the mage lying on the floor of the tank. The first thing he did was feel under Lalli’s jaw, his large fingers digging down into the cloth collar of his jacket to feel for a pulse there. Emil hadn’t even thought to do that. Then Mikkel's hand slid up Lalli's face, his thumb pushing one eyelid up. He frowned grimly and Emil asked, "What? What is it?!"

Mikkel didn't answer, asking instead, "Does anyone have a flashlight?"

Emil nearly slammed Lalli's small flashlight into Mikkel's waiting palm, demanding, "Does that mean he has a pulse or not!?"

Mikkel startled. "Oh." He looked between Tuuri and Emil's stricken faces. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize. Yes, he has a pulse. It is slow, but steady. That is all I know so far. Give me the flashlight, please."

Tuuri's sigh was audible and she murmured something in Finnish that was probably thanking some god or another. _He has a pulse._ Emil stared at the still face of the mage. _He's still alive.  
_

Emil had been so afraid that Lalli was dead. That last apology had sounded too final. It hadn't been an "I'm sorry you're not going to like this, but we'll talk about it later." It had been "I'm sorry I'm about to step off this ledge, but there's nothing else I can do." Then his boneless body had fallen onto Emil, blood dribbling from his mouth. Emil had slapped his face lightly, calling his name, and Lalli's head had lolled to the side... Emil forced himself to stop remembering.

Mikkel pressed the button at its end to switch the flashlight on, and a spot of light appeared on the wall. He turned the flashlight on Lalli's face, holding up his eyelids once again as he flashed the light across each eye. Emil watched as the bright wash of light passed over Lalli's dark eyes. They were almost all pupil: deep black holes rimmed with a mere sliver of grey. Mikkel switched off the light and set it down before his hands went back to Lalli's head, sifting through the thin hair that only Emil normally got to touch. His fingers inched across Lalli's skull feeling--Emil supposed--for bumps or cracks.

"Help me get his jacket and things off," Mikkel ordered. Emil's hands went immediately to the collar at Lalli's neck, pulling apart the fastener and grabbing the zipper that hung on Lalli's chest, pulling it down in a quick motion. He'd done the same thing many times before, but Lalli had always been standing or at least sitting, exhausted after hours of scouting. This time he peeled the vest off of Lalli's heavy body without any help from the scout, lifting each shoulder and tugging the vest down over those long arms.

Emil peeled Lalli's gloves off, starting at each bicep and pulling them down to his wrists before picking up his hands and tugging the thin, soft leather from each finger. His own hands were shaking, but he looked up at Mikkel expectantly. Beseechingly. Hoping for some pronouncement that Lalli was going to be fine. Mikkel hands passed down Lalli's thin arms, fingers feeling the bones beneath the ropy muscles there. He picked up one of Lalli's hands, turning it over to press a nail into the palm. Emil saw his eyes flick up to Lalli's face when he did this, but nothing happened. Was that what Mikkel had been expecting, or had he been looking for some kind of reaction?

Mikkel asked out loud, "This blood... Was he injured by something?"

Emil's eyes swung back to Lalli's face, still streaked with smears of blood across his cheeks and around his mouth. "No," he said softly. "I don't think it's from the fall either. I think it's whatever magic he did."

Mikkel's eyes moved past him to Tuuri, who was kneeling at Emil's shoulder. Reynir was standing fretfully at Lalli's feet and even Sigrun had sat up and was peering over at her scout. "What can you tell me about this?"

Tuuri's round cheeks were still shiny, but her voice was steady now. "I don't know what Lalli was doing, but I know that mages do collapse if they use too much magic. That was what happened after Copenhagen. I've seen it happen to Lalli lots of times since we were kids."

"So you're saying this is common? And your mages usually wake again from such a state?"

"I suppose sometimes they might not, but I've never seen that happen." She put a hand on Lalli's arm. She looked relieved, now that she knew Lalli was still breathing. "He'll need to sleep and recover his energy, just like last time. I can ask my brother, too, once we get the radio set up. But as far as I know, if it's magical exhaustion, then he just needs rest now."

Emil stared at her, wondering if they were looking at the same boy. Was it really so common that Lalli collapsed with blood dribbling out of his ears? If it was, what the hell did they do to their mages in Finland?

"We can't radio now, though" Tuuri spoke up, seeming to remember something for the first time. "Lalli wanted me to drive back to Nyborg. He told me where to go and to call a ship there."  She let out a shaky laugh. "He must have known that he was going to use too much power, and that he might not be able to scout for us. That's why he wanted to be sure that I knew where to go. I should probably start driving. If he finds out that we didn't start out at once, I'll never hear the end of it."

"You drive then," Mikkel told her. "Your cousin was right. We should go."

It was as if Tuuri had needed permission to leave Lalli's side. As soon as Mikkel gave her and Reynir a dusting of the antimicrobial spray and told them to keep their face masks on until he had given them explicit permission to remove them, they retreated to the front seat. Mikkel pulled the door shut between it and the rest of the tank.

Emil looked at Mikkel, searching that craggy face, but the Dane only said, "We should get your wounds properly looked at."

Emil shook his head stubbornly. "They're fine. Take care of Lalli first."

"There's not much else I know to do for the scout right now. He does not have any obvious wounds to be treated. He is not responsive, so there is little we can do with the limited facilities we have here but keep him comfortable. You can get him cleaned up while I check the captain and get her decontaminated." Mikkel brushed past Emil where he knelt on the ground. There was a squawk of protest from Sigrun, who claimed that she didn't need any help from Mikkel with decontamination. Emil barely noticed the bickering behind him.

He went and collected one of the decontamination bags, just as he did every evening, and put Lalli's jacket and gloves inside. Then he didn't know where to start and he stared helplessly at the unmoving body for several moments. Finally he rose again to fill a cup of water from the reserve tank. He grabbed a washcloth from the small bathroom and, dipping it in the cup, began to sponge the blood from Lalli's face and neck as gently as he could. The water was tinged a cloudy brick color long before Lalli was clean. Emil went back to the bathroom, tossing the water down the drain to dribble out under the tank as it trundled along. He filled the cup again and returned to Lalli's side.

Once all the skin he could see was clean, Emil wrapped the cloth around sections of Lalli's hair, where the blood from his ears had soaked it. He squeezed the washcloth so that water welled out of it, dripping away over his fingers, tinged pink. He sponged the contaminated water off the ground, wringing it back into the cup. Then he tossed the water, filling the cup again with fresh water, and began it all again.

Slipping one hand under Lalli's back to lift him, Emil began tugging his black thermal up, fishing it over his stomach, then his ribs, till it was bunched up under his armpits. But he couldn't bear to lower Lalli's exposed skin onto the cold steel floor so he ended up pulling the shirt back down again. He sat back on his heels to pull off his own jacket, propping Lalli up into a sitting position so that he could spread it out on the floor before easing the scout down again on top of it.

He began tugging the shirt up again, then took each of Lalli's hands in turn, holding the limp fingers as he pulled the long sleeves down over them, reaching into the fabric to grip Lalli's elbows and gently guide his arms free of the sleeves. Finally he lifted Lalli's shoulders and drew the shirt over his still damp head.

Lalli was bare to the waist, a sight that normally thrilled Emil, but not now. He ducked into the bathroom and rolled his sleeves up, scrubbing himself clean with soap up to the elbows before hurrying back. With a fresh washcloth and water, he used the sanitizing soap to wash Lalli's chest and arms, sponging over his face and around his neck one more time for good measure. He went into the sleeping chamber and grabbed Lalli's extra clothes from where they had been piled with his own at end of the bunk they had come to share each night. He lingered for a moment longer than he needed to. It had only been that morning that Lalli had been shoving him away as he teasingly rubbed his stubble against the grumbling Finn.

His body was stiff and it was getting harder to lift his left arm as the joint swelled from all of the abuse he had put it through that day, but Emil still managed to wrestle Lalli's dangling limbs into the shirt. He slipped his fingers into the cuffs of Lalli's long boots one at a time, pulling each boot off to add it to the decontamination bag. All of the clothes would have to be washed later. They were covered in troll and blood and dirt and dust. But until they could stop the tank, they simply needed to contain them so that Reynir and Tuuri could move around safely. He pulled off Lalli's pants and socks, tucking the long sweatshirt down over his thighs to give the Finn the only small modesty he could afford him.

Sigrun and Mikkel weren't looking anyway. The last time he went for fresh water, Sigrun had been standing buck naked near the exterior door. She hadn't seemed bothered in the least by Emil and Mikkel seeing every inch of her tall, muscled body. She had been washing down her front with a soapy washcloth as Mikkel scrubbed her back and the nape of her neck. The two adults were being completely professional, so no one needed to notice how his own cheeks tinged pink as he bathed Lalli's lower half before lifting each knee to guide those long legs into the soft trousers. He rolled a sock over each of Lalli's narrow feet and then the mage was as clean as he was going to get.

He was still on top of Emil's jacket, but only touching the inner lining, so Emil hoped that it would suffice for decontamination. Out of things to do, Emil knelt beside Lalli and let his eyes roam as freely as he wanted. He was only now beginning to process all that happened that day: the fear and violence of the hospital and the way that he and Lalli had battled off troll after troll. It was more battle than he had seen in his entire two years as a cleanser in the Swedish army. He remembered Lalli saving him, and himself even saving Lalli once or twice. The gentle touch of Lalli's fingers when he had been bandaging Emil's head. The way his heart had stopped when Lalli had jumped from the window. The sight of Lalli's face, covered in blood and filled with unshakeable resolution. The feeling of his body sagging in Emil's arms.

Could Tuuri really be right? Was Lalli just sleeping? The Finn was always pale, but something in the chalky flatness of his skin seemed different now. Emil leaned close again, his cheek beside Lalli's mouth. There was a faint but steady puff of breath. Emil let himself savor it until his back ached from the position and he was force to straighten up.

Emil sat brushing his fingers over and over through Lalli's drying hair until Mikkel and Sigrun had finished with one another and the Dane insisted that it was Emil's turn to be decontaminated. Emil allowed himself to be led a few feet away, but his eyes remained fixed on Lalli as Mikkel forced him to strip his remaining clothing, scrubbing his back the same way he had Sigrun's and then handing the washcloth to Emil. He undid the bandage around Emil's head and made the Swede bend over a pail of water to try to wash the dried muck out of his clumps of hair before cleaning his head wound and bandaging it once again with fresh gauze. He prodded at Emil's shoulder and once Emil had his shirt on, Mikkel used a long strip of muslin to bind his left arm against his body with strict instructions that he was not to use it until Mikkel said he might.

Emil swallowed the two pills that were placed in his hand without a word, and then they were done. Mikkel gathered up all the bags of clothing, lining them up at the far end of the tank to be washed when there was time. He sprayed down Sigrun with the antimicrobial spray one last time before ushering her into the front of the tank so that she could talk to Tuuri about what was to happen next.

Handing the spray to Emil, the large man stooped to pick up Lalli. "Give us a good once over," he instructed and then, choking slightly on the particles filling the air, he carried Lalli into the sleeping chamber and lowered him onto Emil's bunk without asking. Emil sprayed himself with the aerosol so that he could follow. Mikkel allowed him to shuffle past and take up the spot beside the bed.

He heard Mikkel stuffing his jacket into a rustling plastic bag. Then he was rinsing the floor in the back of the tank and washing down the surfaces in the bathroom with something that smelled like bleach. Emil didn't care. He didn't care what was happening in the front of the tank and what was being decided about where they were going. He was exactly where he needed to be and everything he needed was right here in front of him. Emil gently pushed Lalli's body closer to the wall, then he eased himself down beside the boy. He took one limp hand in his own and finally--finally--closed his eyes.

 

 

They stopped an hour before sunset on the other side of the small village where the crew had raided the antique shop. Mikkel quickly set to the cooking and the laundry as the captain herself put up the sensors around the tank and Tuuri set up the radio equipment to contact the base in Sweden. Emil didn't see any of this himself, but he was to learn about it when he finally woke the next morning, having slept for 14 straight hours.

Tuuri was sitting on the floor beside his bunk when he opened his eyes and he quickly struggled up with his one arm. She leaned on the space he had opened up, resting her elbows on the still-warm mattress so that she could peer at Lalli's face.

"What time is it?" he asked in a thick voice, looking around the chamber. The other beds were empty already, but the light coming in from the front of the tank was still weak. It couldn't have been much past dawn. Rubbing his eyes with his right hand, he winced as he brushed against the bandage over his right temple. He lowered his hand and looked down at Lalli. He was in the exact same position he had been in the night before. "No change?"

"No," Tuuri said in a wistful voice. But then she brightened, "But that's perfectly normal. I talked to my brother last night and told him that Lalli used too much magic and collapsed. He was angry and he said that Lalli had been irresponsible and that he'd warned him not to push himself too hard again, but he told me the same thing I told you all. Lalli needs to sleep and recover his energy, then he'll wake up."

It was a little easier to believe now, when Lalli was tucked up in bed and looking for all the world like he was dreaming away in peace. Emil reached out without thinking and brushed the hair back from Lalli's face. Then he jerked back, his face flushing as he looked to Tuuri to see if she'd noticed. Her solemn gray eyes were fixed on Lalli, though, and she didn't seem inclined to question the tender gesture if she had noticed it.

"The team back in Sweden agreed to pick us up, though, once Mikkel reported what he had found. They're taking the Dalahästen to Öresund tonight, and Trond is already going to start contacting people to see if he can use any favors to get us picked up faster. But it will probably take a couple days." She stood up and brushed off her knees, pausing long enough to put one of her soft, plump hands on Lalli's forehead. "You'll keep watching him, won't you? I have to get back. Lalli wanted us to get to the coast as soon as possible and making sure that happens is all I can do for him right now." She smiled. "Let me know when he wakes up, though. Onni and I are both going to have some words for him about behaving recklessly."

There was a steely glint in her eyes for a moment, one that Emil was more used to seeing in Lalli than in the sweet skald. When she passed back into the front of the tank, he let himself flop down onto the bunk beside Lalli. Mikkel and Reynir must have been in the front as well, because Emil could hear a conversation start up in Icelandic as soon as Tuuri returned there. The engine started up and they began moving.

There was no sign of Sigrun, so it seemed likely she was walking outside the tank as he had been doing for the last several weeks, and maybe even scouting ahead a bit.  _I should go out and help her soon_ , he told himself, rolling over slightly so that he could look at Lalli's face only a hand's span from his own. Tuuri didn't seem worried at all any longer and he wondered if he had overreacted. Even if he had, though, he didn't want to leave.

"Lalli," he whispered. "You're still in there, right?" There was no response. Not even a flicker of movement. "You have to come back." But his hand, when Emil picked it up, was warm and that was better than the previous night. His skin had been cool to the touch then. Maybe Tuuri was right. Maybe he was getting better with rest.  _Just a little more rest, then I'll go out and help Sigrun_. And that was how he fell back asleep.

 

 

The next time Emil woke up, hours later, he felt much more embarrassed. It was one thing to sleep past everyone when the rest of the crew was up at dawn, but something else entirely to sleep until nearly noon while other people were doing his job. He forced himself up off the bed. He stood glancing through the doorway toward the cockpit and then back at Lalli. It was only five or six steps away, that was how small the tank was, but he still hated to leave Lalli with no one beside him.

He leaned over the Finn, whispering in his ear, "I'll be back." He let his lips brush Lalli's cheek before he pulled away, though Lalli would not turn to catch his kiss in return. Then Emil shuffled to the front of the tank, leaning on the back of the passengers' seat once he reached the front. "Where are we now?" he asked, not knowing what else to say after dozing away half the day.

Tuuri didn't even need to glance at the maps. "We're doing good. We've made it past the first village Lalli told me to avoid. Now we're somewhere south of the old highway. After we detour around the second village, we probably want to stop tonight out here in the farmland. Then tomorrow we'll try to take Nyborg. We don't want to be heading into the city in the evening."

"No," Emil agreed. "Sigrun's outside?"

"She is." Mikkel answered before Tuuri could. "Astonishing though it may be, our reckless captain came back the least harmed of our three soldiers after that escapade yesterday. So she elected to take point in case we run into anything."

"I'll switch with her for the afternoon," Emil said. "She should rest, too. She'll probably want night watches on again."

"Well, you should be well rested for that." Mikkel muttered.

"I was keeping Lalli warm," Emil snapped back, his cheeks burning. The glimmer of humor disappeared from Mikkel's face.

"Mm. Yes, that is probably for the best." He pushed himself up from the bench seat. "Now that you're out of my way, I'll should check on our sleeping beauty."

"Even though Tuuri says there's nothing we can do?" Emil asked.

Mikkel's eyes went to Tuuri, though she didn't look away from the windshield. "Even if there is nothing we can do," he agreed. But the words sounded different when he said them and Emil shivered, not liking the way they sounded from Mikkel.

"My uniform is still dirty?" he asked.

"Yes. Filthy. I won't have a chance to wash it until we stop longer. Perhaps tonight. If you wish to relieve Sigrun, you'll have to borrow her jacket or risk exposure."

Emil shrugged. It might be tight, but Sigrun's jacket would be better than pacing outside in nothing but his undershirt. He glanced back through the series of doors to the sleeping bunks. "Will you keep an eye on him? In case he...wakes up or anything?"

"I think I can spare one." Mikkel clapped him on the good shoulder, then passed through the door to see how Lalli was doing. Emil had to fight the urge to follow and hover behind him. He wanted to watch Mikkel for any hint of what his trained eyes saw, and an irrational sense of protectiveness made him not want to leave Lalli alone with anyone else when he was so defenseless.

He couldn't mope over Lalli 24 hours a day, though, without his commanding officer having something to say about it. He was lucky she had been as lenient as she had so far. So he took point in front of the tank for the rest of the afternoon. It was unsettling not to have Lalli ranging in front of him and to be the only defense the crew had. He walked to the right of the hood so that his useless left side wasn't exposed to the world. Whenever Tuuri turned, he would correct his course. When she wanted to turn into him, she knocked on the windshield and waved her hand so that she didn't run him over.

Just as often as he scanned the wilds surrounding them for any movement, he looked back into the front of the tank. But Tuuri just kept on driving, Reynir prattling on beside her. Mikkel never seemed to reappear from the back of the tank. Surely Mikkel would have come out or Tuuri would have given some sort of signal or shown some excitement if Lalli had woken up. Emil didn't want Lalli to wake up without him being there or to think that Emil hadn't been there with him. But he also just wanted Lalli to be okay.

He was relieved when they stopped early for the day, having found a decent camping site with a water source where they could refill their water reserves. No one wanted to push on into potential danger without a scout to run ahead and check the area for them. He peeled Sigrun's jacket down his arms.  It was harder since his hands were stiff with cold after spending the whole day out without gloves, but he got them working enough to escape the tight jacket.

Leaving it draped on the ground for it to decontaminate naturally in the light, he grabbed one of the aerosol bottles of antimicrobial spray from the back of the tank, gave himself a quick blast in the face, ruffling through his hair and surrounding himself with a cloud of the stuff. It should be sufficient for simply walking outside all day without contact with any beasts or trolls.

"No change?" Emil asked as soon as he stepped into the sleeping chamber. Mikkel was sat on the edge of Tuuri's usual bunk, a stack of papers on his knees and another pile on the mattress beside him. Emil recognized the papers as the ones that he and Lalli had packed up in the lab.

Mikkel glanced up, then over at Lalli. "No change," he confirmed.

Emil was relieved and disappointed. "Thanks for staying with him." He had never seen Mikkel reading in this room before and he assumed that the Dane had brought his papers in here so that Lalli wasn't left alone. Mikkel simply nodded, gathering up his materials into one neat pile again, with the papers that he had already read rotated at 90 degrees so that he would know where to resume from. Then he took them back to the command room to be properly stored with all the other evidence they had found.

Emil listened as doors clanged open and shut. Sigrun was dozing on the bed above, probably in preparation for night watch. He should go back outside. Set up the sensors and make sure there was someone with a weapon around to protect Reynir and Tuuri if they were outside. But he hadn't seen Lalli for the past four hours. He rubbed the scout's cheek, hoping for any sign of life but Lalli slept on and Emil knew he had to do his job. Lalli of all people would understand that. He was relentless when it came to duty. "I'm going to go set up the perimeter, then I'll come back to check on you, okay?" he said softly, not wanting to disturb Sigrun but still needing to say something to Lalli. He had to pretend at least that Lalli could hear him.

Looking back several times, Emil hurried out of the tank and grabbed the remote sensors from the storage. He didn't bother with a jacket, but set them up as quickly as he could, checking and double-checking that everything was working perfectly. Then he ducked back into the tank. Lalli hadn't moved. As Mikkel began filling the washtub to beat out the filth from he and Emil's uniforms, Emil satisfied himself by standing in the open door of the tank where he could watch over the trio outside and check on Lalli simply by turning around and leaning further into the tank for a glimpse at his bunk. It was the best he could do for now.

His flamethrower was slung across his body, hanging beside his right hand so that he could quickly bring it up if he needed to. He wasn't a flawless shot with a rifle at the best of times, and with his left arm still tied to his side, he had no faith in his ability to aim with one arm. He would stick with the flamethrower. As long as he didn't set the crew on fire, all he had to do was point it in the right general direction.

When they woke Sigrun for dinner and she slumped outside, yawning and scrubbing at her hair, Emil grabbed his own plate and carried it into the tank to eat beside Lalli. It had been an entire day by now. When this had happened in Copenhagen, Lalli had made it back to the tank on his own two feet and stayed upright through decontamination even before collapsing into sleep. That time, Lalli had been scouting for an entire night and day before he'd magicked himself out, and still he had only slept for perhaps 18 hours. Yet it had been more than 24 hours and Lalli showed no sign of waking.

It seemed undeniable to Emil that Lalli had done something worse to himself this time, and Mikkel's serious reaction to Lalli's state was making it harder with every passing hour for Emil to believe Tuuri's reassurances that this was completely normal. Emil rubbed Lalli's cheek, pinching it gently between his thumb and the knuckle of his index finger. He twisted it slightly, but other than leaving a pink mark, it had no effect on Lalli.

Sighing, Emil stepped out of the tank to leave his dirty bowl to be washed clean of the last of the unflavored mush that had been all they had to eat that day. Sigrun gave him a piercing look and asked, "You up to taking the second watch tonight? I'll take first, since I just woke up."

He nodded. "Of course. Just wake me when you want to switch."

His agreeable answer won him an approving look. "I know you're worried about your twig, but I'm glad you've still got your priorities straight." Sigrun grinned. "He'll pull through. He's a tough little thing. But we do need to figure out a way for him to do his job without putting himself out of commission for days at a time."

Emil felt a spurt of anger on Lalli's behalf. He knew how serious of a threat the ghosts were to Lalli. The mage had risked his life twice in the previous day to try to save the rest of them from the attack. But he didn't really understand about spirits and magic enough to feel like he could insist to Sigrun that Lalli had only done what he had to. He gave a short nod, and retreated back into the tank.

Tuuri came into the tank after him, and Reynir followed her in turn. This time Emil didn't bother scooting away or letting go of Lalli's hand. Reynir made some remark in a wistful voice and Tuuri replied to him in Icelandic. Whatever she said caused a dramatic reaction. Reynir's eyes flew back and forth between Emil and Lalli. His face quickly turned as red as his hair, all the way to the tips of his ears. Emil felt himself flushing as well under the scrutiny.

"What did you tell him?" Emil asked Tuuri.

"Just the truth," she said, her own cheeks taking on a tinge of pink. "He was saying how nice it was that you two are such good friends. So I pointed out to him that the two of you are sleeping together."

"We're not sleeping together!" The words burst out of Emil, his face growing even hotter. "I mean, yes, we _do_ sleep together--and we do, well--but--we're not having sex!" He groaned, burying his face in his hands and wishing he could redo the last fifteen seconds of his life completely. "Is that even what you meant? You do know what that phrase means, right? Oh god. Could this conversation never ever happen?" He should have known it was coming, though. He had guessed that Tuuri might have put things together the previous morning, when the others had all woken to find him and Lalli sleeping together on the same mattress.

Tuuri eyebrows arched up when he dared lift his face from his hands. "Yes, I'm aware what the phrase means, even if I wasn't aware of the exact extent of your relationship." She looked away, finding something interesting to stare at on the tank's floor. "How long has this been going on?"

"A couple weeks."

Tuuri's eyelids dropped even lower. "I can't believe I didn't notice. I never even knew Lalli was gay. Or that you were. I should have guessed." She gave him a look that was nearly spiteful, her eyes moving over his carefully-maintained hair.

"But I'm not!" Emil protested. He still wasn't prepared for this kind of conversation. "Or at least I wasn't. I just like Lalli."

Her eyes narrowed dangerously after hearing his denial. "You had better not be messing around with my cousin. If he doesn't kill you, I will."

"I'm not messing around," Emil said softly. "Lalli is... He's..." Emil shook his head. It was too embarrassing to say any of the things he was thinking out loud. _Lalli is the most amazing person I've ever met? Everything he does fascinates me? I'd be happy to have him as long as he'll have me?_ He and Lalli didn't even talk about these things yet. He didn't want Tuuri to know them first.

"I'm not messing around," he repeated at last in a serious voice.

"Good," Tuuri said, as if that settled things. It sounded as though she had been steeling herself up to have this talk for some time.

Reynir interrupted hesitantly, his hands coming up as if he had to physically push his way into their conversation. His face was still quite red. When he was done talking, Tuuri translated, thankfully reducing the long string of babble into a few concise sentences.

"Reynir says that he knows you're worried and he's been worried, too. He says he can try to find Lalli in his dreams tonight and talk to him, to see if he can find anything out."

Emil's mouth hung open. He should have thought of that sooner. He'd been driving himself mad for the past day, wondering what had happened to Lalli, and forgotten that he had a direct line to the sleeping mage in the very same tank. He didn't know how easy or hard it would be for Reynir to try to reach Lalli, but if he could even get some kind of confirmation that Lalli really was okay and would wake up unharmed, then Emil could wait however long he needed to.

"That would be great," he said, and he gave Reynir his first genuine smile since they had met. "Really great. If you find him, can you tell him that...that..."

Tuuri cut in, saving Emil from his floundering. "I'll make sure he tells Lalli that we're all very worried and waiting for him."

"Yes," Emil said. "Yes, please. Tell him that we're waiting for him to come back."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay on these two. I felt too guilty to do another cliffhanger in a row, so had to wait till 20 was done as well to post--and that took a while. (P.S. So happy to see Emil and Lalli back in the pages of the comic. Emil's look of pure repugnance at Reynir grabbing Lalli by the shoulders = my night made.)


	21. Lesson 21

**Lesson 21**

When Reynir stumbled out of the tank the next morning, tying off the end of his long plait, Emil grabbed Tuuri and began dragging her toward him. The Swede looked exhausted and definitely short on patience, and Reynir dropped the end of his long braid in a panic. He tried to summon a smile, but it faltered and died as Emil bore down on him.

He and Emil had never gotten off on the best foot. Tuuri had told him how Emil had mistaken him for a prisoner at first, but that had gotten cleared up and Emil still didn’t seem to like him much. Now that he knew the truth about Emil and Lalli, though, he thought the frosty attitude might finally make sense. Emil always _had_ glared the worst at him when Lalli was around and Reynir was trying to talk to the other mage.

His mind wandered off, as it so often did, as he marveled again over what he’d learned the day before about Emil and Lalli. He hadn’t even known that could happen. He did have some basic idea of what happened between men and women. He’d certainly seen what happened between the ewes and the rams on his parent’s farm, and he had four older siblings who liked to tease him when their parents were out of earshot. But he’d never seen two rams do anything together but butt heads. So how could it work with two men? He had to be missing something, because it just didn’t seem like all the necessary parts could be there…

Reynir realized that Tuuri and Emil were looking at him expectantly and he was pretty sure that Tuuri must have asked him something, but he had no idea what. He had been so far gone in his own imagination that he hadn’t heard a word of it.

“Ah. You want to know about how last night went, right? Yes?” His wide eyes moved from one impatient face to another. “Well, about that…”

He could already see Emil’s expression darkening, even though he knew for a fact that the Swede didn’t understand Icelandic. He hurriedly went on. “I did _see_ Lalli. He’s in his dream space. But he was, um, asleep in there, too. I tried talking to him but he didn’t open his eyes.” He remembered squatting beside the sleeping Finn on his weird little bridge thingy. He’d considered trying to shake him awake, but Lalli scared him more than Emil sometimes.

Feeling guilty, Reynir admitted in a glum voice, “I didn’t try poking him or anything. I didn’t think he would like that. But I guess I _could_ try tonight. If you really want me to.”

He pretty much hoped they wouldn’t. He still remembered how real the pain had felt the last time Lalli punched him in a dream.

He watched as Tuuri relayed the message. Emil’s pale face twisted in misery and Reynir felt so sorry for him that he couldn’t stand it. “I can definitely try,” he offered, already kicking himself mentally as the words left his mouth. He was totally going to get a tree in the face again. “Once I explain that it’s for you, he—he’ll probably forgive me.” He wished he didn’t sound so doubtful.

Once Emil heard the translation, he asked a question in return. Tuuri stared at him for a moment, then said something in Swedish. Emil shrugged, snapping back in a frustrated tone.

“I can’t believe I’m even asking this...” Tuuri muttered, more to herself than to Reynir. She cleared her throat. “So Emil asked whether you think you could take him to see Lalli.”

“In a dream?”

Tuuri rolled her eyes. “Yes, in a dream, Reynir. Not in the tank two feet away.”

“Oh.” He considered for a minute. “Well, I don’t know. I didn’t even know that _I_ could travel in dreams until a couple weeks ago, so I’m not really an expert on what you can and can’t do, but...I do kind of feel like Onni wouldn’t like it.” He searched Tuuri’s face but she neither confirmed nor denied that.

“I mean, it seems like some kind of taboo to go into another person’s dream space. Lalli and Onni both attacked me the first time I went into their spaces uninvited. But I guess Lalli wouldn’t mind _you_ visiting him,” he said, directing the words at Emil, who gave him back a blank look.

“I mean, since you’re…well, you know.” Emil’s baffled look was beginning to turn angry again, and Reynir quickly told Tuuri. “Never mind. Don’t translate that.”

Looking up at the sky, Reynir chewed on his lower lip as he thought. He had just sort of stumbled upon Lalli and Onni’s dream spaces, but he hadn’t noticed anyone else from the crew having any. What if only mages had them?

“I really don’t know if it’ll work, but I’ll try my best. When I go to sleep tonight, I’ll try to find you if I can. Okay?”

He offered up an unsure smile. Tuuri translated again for him, though it only took her a sentence or two. Then Emil’s shoulders sagged as some of the tension seemed to leave him.

“ _Tack, Reynir_ ,” he said, and that word at least needed no translation between their languages. And despite all his doubts, Reynir beamed back at him in return.

 

 

Emil shuffled into the tank and flung himself onto the mattress beside Lalli. He knew he should take off his jacket and boots, but he didn’t want to have to move even the small distance necessary to sit up and change. What did it matter anyway? He would get kicked awake again in something like six hours, to take point so Sigrun could sleep a shift before the first night watch.

Wrapping an arm around Lalli’s waist, he dragged the unconscious mage closer so that he could bury his face in Lalli’s hair. The disappointment when Reynir had walked out of the tank with that sheepish look had been withering. He’d kept himself going all night with the thought that Reynir would bring back some message from Lalli; some sign that things were going to be all right.

But it had been a day and a half. If Lalli didn’t wake up before night fell, it would have been two whole days. Emil had to quash the urge to dash right out of the tank again and demand that Reynir help him try to hijack his way into Lalli’s dreams that instant. It wasn’t like the Icelander could probably fall asleep on command. He’d just had a good night’s rest—unlike Emil, who had barely gotten four hours of sleep before Sigrun had woken him up for his watch.

He murmured Lalli’s name, already drunk with exhaustion and feeling reality slip away. Maybe if he just slept a few hours, Lalli would finally come around. Then Lalli could be the one to wake him. _Yeah, that would be perfect..._ And that was the last conscious thought Emil had that morning.

 

 

Emil opened his eyes and looked up at the familiar ceiling of his childhood bedroom. He’d had dreams like this plenty of times before and he rolled over on the bed—to find Reynir sitting on the floor, legs crossed and an eager smile on his face. Emil stumbled back with a shout.

With the odd amnesia that often seemed to strike in dreams, he had completely forgotten that he had been expecting Reynir—even hoping for him to show up—until he saw the red-headed misfit sitting on his parents’ woven rug.

They had stopped at the edge of Nyborg well before dark that evening, and Sigrun and Emil had spent the last part of the day ranging ahead to try to plan a route for the tank through the city. They hadn’t run into anything but a few beasts, and Sigrun was dead set on reaching the harbor the next day. When they had decontaminated for the night, Emil had left her to first watch and flopped down on his bunk before Reynir had even finished brushing his teeth for the night. It couldn’t have taken him more than a few minutes to fall asleep, and yet here Reynir had apparently beat him into his own dream.

“Thank goodness!” the Icelander exclaimed. “I’ve been waiting for you to wake up. Or fall asleep. Or whatever. What I mean is that I’ve been sitting here watching you for ages!”

“That’s...really unsettling,” Emil responded, swinging his feet off the plump mattress. “And I can understand you. Is this real?”

“Even if it wasn’t, wouldn’t I say yes if this was your own dream? Unless it was a nightmare.”

“You have no idea,” Emil muttered. Being stuck in a small room with Reynir—especially a Reynir whom he could understand—sounded the makings of a fantastically bad nightmare. Still, the realization that he was actually meeting Reynir while asleep made his heart thump a little harder. “So it worked?”

“I guess so. I just sort of kept thinking about you and then I found this place that felt right, and then you appeared in the bed but it was like you were still asleep for a long time. Here in the dream, I mean. And I wasn’t sure if I should try to wake you—here in the dream, I mean, again—because I really don’t even know if non-mages are supposed to do any of this.”

Emil stared. He tried to run through the long stream of babble in his mind, then gave up and asked instead, “So can you take me to Lalli?”

Reynir jumped to his feet, his ridiculously long braid flopping behind his shoulder to swing against his back. “I can definitely try!” he exclaimed, and then he walked through the wall and disappeared.

Emil blinked at the spot where he had been, then slowly moved across the room. He went to the yellow wall and reached out to poke it. It felt perfectly solid under his fingers. He gave it a little push but nothing changed. Then Reynir’s wild head of red hair popped back through mere centimeters from his hand.

“What’s wrong?” Reynir asked. “What are you waiting for?”

Emil knocked on the solid plaster next to the Icelander’s head. “I can’t walk through walls last time I checked.”

“Hmm.” Reynir cupped his chin in one hand with a thoughtful look. “Maybe I can pull you through? Try taking my hand.” He held out one gloved hand. Emil noticed for the first time that Reynir’s clothes were a bit different than those he wore in the real world. He looked down and realized that he was also wearing civilian clothes, and not his expedition uniform. He recognized the twill pants and black pullover. He’d worn both when he visited his parents’ house the last time.

Emil took hold of Reynir’s hand and braced himself as the boy pulled him forward. He couldn’t help his eyes squeezing shut as the wall rushed toward his face, but there wasn’t any pain. Something broke over his skin, like some kind of thick membrane, then he felt cold water flooding over his shoeless feet.

“I’m sinking!” he yelped as he slipped further into the dark water. He was standing in what looked to be the middle of an ocean at night. The sky and the water were both black but spotted with a million twinkling stars. Reynir stood on top of the water as though it were solid stone, struggling to hold Emil up as he sank to his waist.

“Shoot. Um... Don’t let go of me. I think it would be really bad to sink down there. I’m going to run. Try to hold on.”

Emil thought he felt something brush against his ankle, then Reynir started dragging him forward. He reached up his other hand to grab onto Reynir’s jacket and half-ran and half-kicked to try to keep up. He got one foot up near the surface of the water, though it immediately began to sink. With an effort, he managed to get right up behind Reynir, finding that he could almost stay on top of the water if he followed in the redhead’s footsteps. He still began sinking immediately, but if he kept moving quickly enough, he only sunk up to his ankles.

It was so much work to watch where Reynir’s feet landed that Emil didn’t notice where they were going until the water beneath his feet changed. It was no longer pitch black and there were tree trunks around the edges of his vision. He looked up and saw that they were in a misty bog where it appeared to be early morning, given the weak grey light.

“He’s still here!” Reynir’s voice cut through the quiet air, and Emil’s eyes followed his pointing finger to a spot ahead of them. There was some kind of wooden platform floating up ahead and a still figure lay upon it, his face turned away from them. But that head was covered in an unmistakable shock of ash-blond hair.

“Lalli!” Emil shouted, wading through the bog without waiting for Reynir. He began sinking at once, but it didn’t matter because Lalli had bolted upright and was staring at him like he had been punched in the gut. The water was up to Emil’s ribs and his clothes were like weights dragging him down but he waded on without even considering stopping.

Lalli lifted a hand and Emil felt himself rising as something pushed him up from below. He ended up on his hands and knees as another wooden walkway rose up from beneath him, water streaming over it as it broke the surface. He stumbled to his feet and then he was running down the path that led him directly to Lalli.

He fell to his knees and threw his arms around the stunned Finn, bowling Lalli over so that they both toppled onto the boardwalk. Lalli was trapped beneath him and Emil felt hands clutching the front of his wet shirt. He was smoothing his own hands over the hair around Lalli’s face, pulling back far enough to see Lalli’s huge grey eyes alert and open for the first time in days—even if it was in a dream.

“You can’t be here,” Lalli said and every disbelieving word was beautiful to Emil. “You’re not a mage. How did you get here?”

Emil let his head fall to rest against Lalli’s forehead. “I made the Icelander bring me.”

“I _am_ standing right here,” Reynir said, piping up from where he was staring at them curiously on the next section of boardwalk. “Wow, so the two you really are...um... Wow. That’s…neat?”

“You had me really worried there, you know,” Emil husked, ignoring the redhead. He had a good deal of practice doing it. “Reynir said that he found you last night but that you never responded to him.”

“I didn’t want to talk to Reynir.”

“Still standing right here,” Reynir pointed out. “Should I just see myself out maybe?”

Lalli and Emil nodded in unison.

“Right then. Well... Enjoy?” The Icelandic mage sounded bemused as he turned with a shrug. “Maybe I’ll see if I can find Onni. I’m pretty sure he must be worried about you, too.”

Lalli nodded without a word, not taking his eyes from Emil as Reynir turned on his heel and began to walk away. As his footsteps echoed across the wooden boardwalks, Emil said in wonder, “I can understand you.” Lalli’s eyes fell shut and his lips curved into a satisfied smile. Emil couldn’t help planting a kiss in the corner of that smile. “If this is a dream, then I’m not sure I ever want to wake up.”

“Isn’t that why you’re here?” Lalli asked. “To wake me up?”

“Maybe,” Emil corrected him, stealing another kiss before he continued. “But I’m reconsidering my options.”

Lalli let Emil kiss him for several more seconds, then he leveraged himself up, pushing Emil an arm’s length away. “Tell me what is going on back in the tank.”

Emil couldn’t help an amused grin. It truly was Lalli. He could understand every word and it was just what he might have expected: reunion time was done and now it was back to business. “Is your job really all you can think about right now?”

It had been meant as a joke, but Lalli bristled and Emil regretted the words even before the mage shot back, “When I nearly kill myself for my job, then yes, I’d like to know if it was worth it or not.”

The grin had died on Emil’s lips, done in by the reminder of what had happened to the real Lalli as much as his annoyed tone. “Everything is fine in the tank.” His voice was soft and flat as he reported the simple facts to the mage. “It’s been two whole days and there has been no sign of trouble since the attack. We’re on the edge of Nyborg now, and a ship should arrive in another day or two. And Reynir said the ghosts seemed to completely disappear after what you did. Does that make it ‘worth’ it to you?”

 

 

A strained silence fell between them and Lalli knew it was his fault. He had snapped at Emil—Emil who was here in his dream space. Lalli could understand every word that he was saying without having to struggle to pick out the few he knew or make guesses to fill in the blanks. There were a hundred and one things they could finally talk about, and he had killed the conversation in less than two minutes.

He squeezed his eyes shut. Why were things even more difficult when they should be easier? Maybe it had been better when they hadn’t been able to communicate—what if Emil expected him to talk like normal people did? And what if he couldn’t do that?

“I didn’t...” He broke off, then tried again. “Yes. It does make it worth it to me.”

He searched Emil’s blank face, not accustomed to using words to try to fix things between them. So he fell back on the tools he had learned in the waking world and smoothed one hand over Emil’s mussed hair. Emil accepted the touch and leaned into it, his face easing.

“If I hadn’t managed to get rid of the ghosts,” Lalli explained haltingly, “and they came back for you all…” Lalli shook his head. “I wouldn’t be able to do anything. Not from here. You might... You all could have...”

When he had first opened his eyes in his dream space, he had been surprised to even find himself still alive. He had felt as though he’d torn his soul from himself in his final desperate attempt to destroy the ghosts, and he had done it fully expecting that it would be the last thing he would ever do.

After he had realized where he was, he had drifted in and out of awareness within his dream. As he began to recover from the utter exhaustion enough to string more than one thought together at time, the worry had begun to return. What if the ghosts struck back while he was powerless to stop them? What if he finally woke up from this dream to find that he was the lone survivor left in the tank?

The idea was sickening but he couldn’t help going back to it over and over, no matter how many times he tried to quash it by reminding himself that he would at least know if the ghosts attacked again—the last time they had reached him in his dreamspace without any trouble at all.

And there had been hints that things might be all right in the waking world. He’d caught fleeting touches over the long timeless period that he’d been alone in his dreamspace. Invisible hands ghosting over his brow, a touch squeezing his hand, a soft brush of lips on his cheek. He’d attributed them all to Emil.

The Swede now scooted over until he could pull Lalli against himself, stretching his legs out on either side of him. Emil tugged Lalli until his back was resting against Emil’s chest. He felt Emil’s arms drape around him and knew from the familiar weight digging into his shoulder that Emil had planted his chin there.

“I get it,” Emil said gently. “I’m sorry. We’re all fine, thanks to you. You don’t need to worry about that. You did an amazing job keeping everyone safe. No one could have done more than that.”

The words were perfect. They were even better than the ones that Lalli had filled in for himself when he hadn’t been able to understand most of Emil’s Swedish. He let himself sag back into Emil’s hold, feeling safe at last.

“But I don’t know if I’d say it was worth it.”

Lalli stiffened and Emil’s arms tightened around him. “Don’t get mad. I just mean that it didn’t seem worth it to me at the time. I’m glad to be alive and glad that everyone else is alive. But, _Lalli_...” Emil’s voice broke on his name and it was suddenly hard to breathe. “Please don’t ever do anything like that again.”

Emil’s hold was almost painfully tight, but Lalli didn’t complain. He didn’t have time to as the Swede rushed on. “I know you’ll say you have to and I know that maybe that’s what mages do, but I thought you were dying. When you collapsed, I wasn’t even sure if you were still breathing or not. I was out of my mind. I’ve _been_ out of my mind every waking moment of the past two days.” He managed a shaky laugh that Lalli felt puff against his cheek. “What else do you think would have driven me to ask Reynir for help?”

Lalli didn’t have a response to that, so he twisted in Emil’s grip and wrapped his arms around the Swede’s neck, capturing his mouth so that he couldn’t talk any longer. He wanted Emil to keep saying things: to keep on telling him how destroyed he would have been without Lalli. But he also hated the words because they reminded him of how desperate he had felt in those last moments. Emil had been right at his back and there had been so many ghosts still and Lalli had been willing to give everything up to make sure they couldn’t get through him to the boy behind him.

He had succeeded and now Emil was in his arms, and toppling over onto his back with Lalli still clasped to his chest. It may have been just a dream, but it felt as real as it always did. The boardwalk tilted dangerously beneath them as Lalli kneaded his hands into Emil’s shoulders, his mouth never leaving the other boy’s. Between kisses, Emil muttered little nothings and for the first time, Lalli could understand every one of them: _Gods, Lalli... I was so afraid... I didn’t know... I need you around... Don’t leave me like that... Don’t leave me._

They were still in the same position, with Emil’s hands up the back of Lalli’s tunic and roving over the warm, dry skin there, when Onni’s voice rang out through the grove.

“Lalli!”

For the second time, Lalli sat bolt upright at the unexpected sound of his own name. His private haven was becoming rather crowded, but there didn’t seem to be anything he could do to keep Reynir from walking right in like he was the master of the place.

He was still perched between Emil’s legs. Emil was slowly sitting up as well, looking dazed and utterly kissable to Lalli’s thinking. He put a hand on Emil’s thigh, giving it a possessive squeeze, simply because he _could_. The fact that he could choose to touch Emil however and whenever he wanted without Emil ever seeming to mind still filled him with an intoxicating feeling of power.

Onni was hurrying along the boardwalk, his expression like thunderclouds in the summer sky as Reynir tripped along behind him. “This one found me and told me that you’ve been unconscious for two days,” he said in a dark tone. “I’m glad that someone finally has bothered to do so. Why didn’t Tuuri tell me things were so bad?”

Lalli shrugged, his hand still resting on Emil’s thigh. “Ask her. That’s not something I can do at the moment.”

Onni’s eyes zeroed in on that hand, then seemed to take in the picture of Lalli sitting between Emil’s legs and practically on top of him. “And who is this? Did you manage to pick up another wandering mage?”

Lalli shook his head. “I told you I’d made a friend. Emil’s not a mage though.”

Onni looked between them, gaping. Then he turned on Reynir. “ _You._ You did this, didn’t you?” He gripped his hands in his hair, making it stand on end even more than it usually did. “Do you all live to trouble me? The foreigners said we needed to set out to Öresund to arrange for a ship to pick you all up, so we were traveling all yesterday and negotiating for trade ships all today. I’m out of radio contact for less than _two days_ and this is what you do?”

“What did I do?” Reynir asked nervously.

“You’ve torn a hole in a non-mage’s mind, apparently!”

“Wait, what?” This was from Emil, who suddenly seemed ready to pay attention to the conversation. “Are you talking about me? What did he do? Is it permanent?”

Onni waved a hand to silence Emil, still too busy glaring at Reynir. “Training exists for a reason. The powers that you have access to are not to be toyed with. You must learn that much at least, even if you do not have a teacher of your own yet!”

“Seriously, what did he do to me? Did he break me?”

Onni finally gave Emil a glare of his own. “I would hope that the damage is not permanent, but it is likely that he tore the natural barriers of your sleeping mind when he pulled you out of your own dream. Until the holes are healed, you will be vulnerable in your dreams to attacks from lost souls. Even more so since you are not a mage and have no way to protect yourself.”

“I’ll keep him here. He’ll be safe with me,” Lalli said.

Onni gave him a knowing look. Lalli leaned back into Emil’s chest with a cool glare. He could tell that Onni was going to have something to say about this relationship the next time they were alone together. At the moment, Lalli was not interested in hearing a word of it.

Onni sighed. “You’ve been without your luonto for more than two days.”

“I’m fine,” Lalli insisted. “I still have my barriers and my luonto will return.”

He kept his face schooled into blankness as Onni’s eyes studied him closely. “How do you feel? Truly, Lalli. Is this the longest you have been without it?”

“I’m _fine_ , Onni. And you know it isn’t.”

Onni flinched at his flat tone, then looked away. He surely remembered as well as Lalli did what had happened after their grandmother died. “Of course.”

“It will return,” Lalli said with confidence and the odd thing was that he believed it as well. Training with his luonto once again in Denmark had given him back an understanding of it that he hadn’t felt since he was a child. Each luonto had its own personality, just as its human did. Onni’s luonto was steady and powerful and unflappable, much like Onni was most of the time. Lalli’s luonto had always been a fickle thing: explosively strong when it chose to be, but quick to take offense and abandon Lalli if it felt that its power was being abused.

When he had been a child, he had learned to befriend it—though it had taken him years and it had abandoned him often in those first months under his grandmother’s training. But when Onni had taken over his training, things had changed. Without even noticing when it had happened exactly, he had come to see his luonto as a tool to be used in certain situations but no longer as an ally and equal part of his powers.

It was no surprise to him now, looking back, why his luonto had abandoned him in Copenhagen. He had used its power because his pride had been wounded and he had wrung every ounce of magic out of it so that he wouldn’t have to admit to the crew that he had failed them.

Lalli had realized the difference after the giant’s attack on the tank. He had dragged his luonto into the physical world without so much as a plea or prayer that time, but when he had dismissed it, he had felt its acceptance. It had been pleased to be called on if it was to _protect_ the people Lalli cared for. And when he had made his final stand against the ghosts, he had felt the lynx’s fierce joy. It had been as willing as he was to risk everything to keep his human family safe. Since he hadn’t died after all, he was sure his luonto would forgive him. It would return once it had recovered.

 

 

Onni examined his cousin’s set face. Lalli had always been stubborn, but something had changed in the brief time since the boy had left Sweden. Something that Onni had not predicted.

His eyes went to the stranger sitting behind his cousin. The blond seemed somehow familiar and then it hit him: he looked rather like his host, the man called Torbjörn. Making this quite likely the young Vasterstrom boy. His glare narrowed, and the stranger paled a few shades—but did not flinch back or otherwise react.

Two days before, Tuuri had radioed in to report their success in finding some ancient medical research and to request a ship to pick them up. She had asked him to stay after the foreigners bustled out of the radio room to start discussing options, and then her tone had changed. In a tight voice, she had explained to him in Finnish that Lalli had used “way too much magic,” in her words, and collapsed. That they’d had no luck waking him.

“I told them he would be fine and that he just needed to sleep. He will be, right, Onni?”

He had gripped his hair so tightly that he had ripped out a good handful, but he had managed not to shout back over the radio. When he had pressed her for details, though, nothing she had said made it sound like anything more than magical exhaustion. That was unfortunately something that he was familiar to dealing with, thanks to serving as Lalli’s teacher for the past decade. Lalli hardly slept, only ate when he liked what was on offer, and constantly overestimated his limits.

Onni had hated hearing about it from hundreds of kilometers away, but he also had known there would have been nothing he could do even if he were right there in that tank. So he had reassured Tuuri that sleep was indeed all that could cure Lalli. And he had kept his fear and anger to himself, seething all along the trip to Öresund and planning in detail the lectures he would be giving Lalli once the ship had brought him back to safety.

Then the Icelander had shown up and told him that Lalli was still unconscious after _48 hours._ And Onni had cursed Tuuri and Lalli and the redhead with every step he took through the dreamscape.

He had expected to find Lalli a closed-off mess, if he was even responsive at all. He had expected sullen protests and angry insistence that Lalli had only done what he had to. But now he was staring down at a Lalli that he had never seen before: calm, self-assured, and immovable. Was it to do with the stranger pressed protectively against Lalli’s back? Had their relationship been another product of this change in Lalli? Or the cause of it?

“You are sure that you’re all right?” That was all Onni asked, despite all the questions spinning about in his head. Lalli nodded and Onni had to admit that his young cousin looked as strong and able as he ever had.

He gave a heavy sigh. “Fine. I will go with the Icelander to see what damage he did to...your _friend_. We will return once we have a better idea.” The slight quirk of Lalli’s lips told him that the boy understood the warning perfectly. _So don’t let me walk in on the two of you again._

Commanding Reynir to lead the way, Onni strode down the boardwalks that would take them to the edge of Lalli’s dream space. His thwarted worry, fear, and anger had turned into a sour lump in his stomach, but somewhere some small part of himself could also admit that maybe he needed to begin giving Lalli a bit more credit as well.

 

 

“So...is there a hole in my head or something?” That was the first thing Emil asked when they were finally alone again. Lalli’s lips twitched.

“Don’t worry. Your perfect hair will cover it.” He demonstrated by smoothing his hands over Emil’s hair, tucking the ends in just the way he always did to himself. His tone was so serious that Emil was unsure for a moment how to respond. Then he saw the glint in Lalli’s eye.

Emil couldn’t help a wondering smile. Lalli had teased him before, of course, with gestures and mocking looks, but this was still different. He loved it.

“You did the same thing to me when we first met, I remember.” He gestured toward his hair. “When we came down on the Dalahästen.”

The Finn shrugged, something flickering across his face too subtle for Emil to read it. “You looked like you needed it.”

A rueful laugh escaped from Emil as he shook his head. “So that’s what you thought of me when we first met? That I needed taking care of?”

Lalli nodded without elaborating. Emil sat with his cheek resting on one hand and his arm propped up on a knee. He examined Lalli from the slight angle. “I thought the same thing, only about you. I thought I was going to take care of you, poor ignorant little Finn that you were.” His eyebrows quirked together. “Only you don’t really need me to look after you, do you?”

“I don’t,” Lalli said matter-of-factly, shaking his head. “But I like it when you try.”

“Then tell me why Tuuri’s brother seemed so worried. Tuuri has been trying to make me believe that this is no big deal—mages sleeping for days at a time without waking up. I don’t really believe her.”

He tried to keep his tone light, but he didn’t think he had fooled Lalli. The Finn looked away, patting him on the arm absently, but seemed to be troubled over how to answer. Emil decided to offer him a starting point and said, “Onni—that’s his name, right?—he was talking about your ‘luonto.’ You tried telling me about it once, but I’m not sure I got it then. What does it mean?”

It took a moment, but when Lalli began to speak, the words spilled out of his mouth smoothly. “The soul has three parts,” he began, and as he went on there was something about the rhythm with which Lalli recited the words that made it sound like a rote lesson. “These three are the henki, the itse, and the luonto. The henki is life, given before birth and leaving only when you likewise leave this world. The itse is the self, that which makes you who are. Lose it, and misery will be your only companion in life. The luonto is the gift of the gods, a protector who walks beside you in life from the time you find your own feet. Your luonto will protect you as long as you protect it, so be always grateful to it and the gods for their generosity.”

It was perhaps the most Emil had ever heard Lalli say to anyone in one go. He had an odd urge to applaud, but he did not. He asked, “So your luonto is like a guardian spirit? And yours left you?”

Lalli blinked, glancing at Emil once before looking away again. He seemed uncomfortable with the description. “I guess.”

Emil wasn’t sure what part of the conversation was bothering Lalli, so he braved on with his questions. But he did also squeeze Lalli’s knee in what he hoped felt like reassurance. “Tuuri said that it’s pretty normal. That it’s been happening since you were a kid.”

There was a flash of annoyance on Lalli’s face. “It’s not _normal_ ,” he muttered, his eyes narrowed. “It doesn’t happen to Onni ever. It didn’t happen to—“ The mage broke off, closing his eyes as he turned his face up to the dream sky above them. Emil wondered if Lalli had been about to name the mother or grandmother that he still didn’t know Emil knew about.

Lalli sighed, grabbing his ankles with both hands as his spine curved into a ball. “Tuuri... Tuuri doesn’t know everything.”

“You’re telling me,” Emil grumbled, and Lalli’s lips twitched in appreciation.

 

 

As annoyed as Lalli was about Tuuri's description, he also did not want to admit to Emil that it might be because of his own weakness or his failure to work with his luonto that he had suffered much more than the average mage seemed to. “Do we really have to talk about this now?"

"Are we ever going to have another chance to?" Emil asked, gentle but unwavering. "We can't talk like this when we're awake. Can we meet like this again if your cousin 'fixes' whatever Reynir did to me?"

"Onni will say it's too dangerous."

Emil's face fell, even though he seemed to have been expecting the answer. Lalli's hand itched to touch him in some way and make the expression go away, but then Emil's brow furrowed. "Wait. That wasn't really an answer."

"No," Lalli agreed.

A smile began to spread across Emil's face as he realized what that one little word might mean, but Lalli didn't allow his expression to change. He couldn't promise that he would be able to find Emil on his own, but once he had his luonto back and could travel the dreamscape safely, there was nothing that would stop him from trying. Not even Onni.

“In case we don’t get another night like this, though,” Emil said, with that smile still tugging at his lips, “I’d have a lot easier time of things tomorrow if I knew why you are still lying unconscious on my bunk in the tank.”

 

 

So for Emil’s sake, Lalli did his best to explain. It was too uncomfortable to look at the Swede, so he hugged his knees and rested his cheek atop them. His eyes he kept on a distant tree, and he spoke in its direction as he told the unassuming plant about the various feats Finnish mages could use their luonto for. Then he looked up to the sky, tracking dream clouds across it as he spoke about what happened when a human lost his luonto. He tried to explain both how he had used his luonto to attack the ghosts and why he knew it would not abandon him permanently.

“I did not die from the attack. I did not destroy my luonto entirely, or myself. It _will_ come back.”

Fingers slid through his hair and he turned at last to look at Emil again. The Swede’s eyes were bleak holes. Lalli couldn’t stand looking into them, and he turned his face away again.

“But you really were about to die, weren’t you? I mean, you thought you were.”

Lalli shrugged. He had thought that. He had been wrong. He had never been so glad to be wrong.

He wouldn’t look at Emil’s face, but from the side of his eyes he could see the cleanser’s hands. They clenched and unclenched as though he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to grab Lalli or perhaps punch him.

“You can’t just _do_ that, Lalli!” Emil burst out at last. Lalli’s eyebrows shot up, but he still kept his eyes on the platform floating across the water from them. _I can and I did and I would do it again if I had to. Probably will._ He didn’t say anything, though. The crack in Emil’s voice told him that the Swede couldn’t hear that right now.

There was a small sniffle, and his head swiveled of its own accord. Emil was scrubbing one arm over his eyes, and Lalli felt like a troll had grabbed him by the ribcage and ripped his chest open. Of course Emil was crying. Emil cried over dead kittens and mourned beast dogs and felt bad for marooning sea monsters. But Lalli hadn’t ever once imagined Emil crying over _him._

His hands flapped uselessly for a moment. He knew he had to do something with them but he wasn’t sure what. Finally he laid them over Emil’s hair, his touch soft as a moth’s wings, as the other boy sat with his head bowed. He made a sort of flat shushing noise.

Emil rubbed at his face with both palms. “If you go and let yourself die than I..." He struggled for a threat. "I'm going to whatever weird afterlife you Finns believe in and haunting you for eternity!"

There were so many things to question about that statement that Lalli settled for the most obvious problem. "It's normally the dead that haunt the living, not the living that haunt the dead."

"I don't care! You're my best friend!" A flush was creeping up Emil's cheeks, but he didn't look away from Lalli's gaze. "And maybe that's stupid, because we can't even have a normal conversation, but it's true. I won’t forgive you if you off yourself to protect the rest of us. So _don’t die._ "

Lalli wanted to look away from the intensity of that look. But Emil deserved better than the easy way out. So Lalli force himself to search the Swede’s expression and try his best to understand what he saw there. And at last he made the only promise he could: “I will try not to.”

 

 

Onni slipped away, pulling the curious Icelander with him. They had walked back into Lalli’s area somewhere in the middle of his explanation to Emil about what a luonto could do. It had been such a shock to see Lalli speaking—in full sentences even—to anyone else that Onni had stopped in his tracks. He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop exactly, but he had clapped a hand over Reynir’s mouth and held the Icelander back before he considered that eavesdropping was exactly what he was doing.

It was unusual to see his cousin and student having a conversation with anyone. It was completely unprecedented to see Lalli voluntarily comforting another person. Humbled by the sight, Onni decided that he could allow the pair a bit more time in their shared dream before forcing the Swede back into his own mind.

 

 

“I hope we’ll be able to talk like this someday all the time.”

They were lying back on the boardwalk; Emil with his hands tucked behind his head and his clothes beginning to dry at last. Lalli’s head was resting on Emil’s bicep as his body seemed to naturally curl into the solid figure beside him.

“Mrmm.”

Emil laughed at the noncommittal sound that had been Lalli’s only reply. “What?” Lalli asked sharply.

“You,” Emil chuckled. “Even now, when we could say anything in the world to one another, that’s still your only response?”

Lalli began to pull away. “Is that a problem?”

“No.” Emil’s answer came immediately. He didn’t even seemed to need to think about it—and he didn’t let Lalli get away either. “It’s not a problem, Lalli. It’s so very you.” He leaned forward, nuzzling his face in Lalli’s hair. “And I happen to like you.”

Emil kissed his ear, sending shivers up and down Lalli’s spine and he felt himself relaxing back into that steady embrace. He didn’t want to snap at Emil, but he didn’t know how to stop either. And Emil thought this was nice? He still wanted to talk to Lalli, even when he got defensive over every other thing Emil said? It was hard to believe—and harder yet not to fear that this fragile interest would be a passing thing. It seemed inevitable that it would wither and die without encouragement, like a seedling starved of water and light, and Lalli didn’t know how to encourage a relationship to grow.

He should say something so that Emil knew how much his acceptance meant to him. That was what Tuuri would tell him, he was quite sure. So he blurted out, “I like that.”

Emil kissed his neck next. “This?”

Lalli shook his head. “No. Yes. That, too, but that’s not what I meant. The way you… I like that you don’t mind. Tuuri always tells me I’m not good with...people.”

Emil’s squeezed around him. “You seem pretty good with me.” He laughed again. “Except for that one time when you threw soup in my face.”

 

 

Emil felt Lalli jump at the sudden reminder and his curiosity was reignited for the first time in weeks. “Do you want to finally explain to me what that was about?”

Lalli was silent for a long time, and Emil was ready to withdraw the question when the Finn started giving his halting answer.

“It wasn’t your fault. Not really.” Lalli sighed. “You were being nice. But I was…angry. I couldn’t understand you or why we were there instead of in Copenhagen. I had done my job. And no one cared.”

“I cared. Everybody knows how much you do for us, Lalli. They’re all worried about you right now, you know.” Emil leaned in, enjoying the feel of Lalli’s thin corn-silk hair against his cheek. “And even if it takes a long time to be able to talk to everyone like this, you can always ask Tuuri to translate.”

Lalli tilted his face up to give Emil an inscrutable look. “I don’t want to ask Tuuri to translate.”

“Well...I guess we can try to learn some Finnish, too...”

Lalli actually snorted, laughing silently into the furry lining of his hood. “I wouldn’t want you to break something.”

Emil almost scowled, but he wasn’t all that offended really. Lalli was probably right.

Then Lalli spoke again, this time in a tone as unbending as iron. “I will learn more Swedish.” He twisted to meet Emil’s eyes again. “But not for everyone.”

Emil felt as if a giant’s hand was squeezing his heart. Maybe Lalli didn’t show as much on his face. He didn’t reach for Emil as often as Emil reached for him. He wouldn’t say exactly how he felt about Emil. But then he did things like this that reassured Emil that Lalli wanted this as much as he did. And that was when he knew that things were going to be okay. They were both going to be okay.

 

 

Emil stumbled back into the tank the next evening, exhausted from a day spent on edge as they crept silently through the city of Nyborg. They had set up perimeter sensors at three different ranges to be on the safe side, and Tuuri had put up the radio antenna to contact the base. They had confirmed that a ship was on its way and likely to arrive the next day. All they had to do was make it through one night in Nyborg without every troll in the city noticing them.

He dropped to the ground beside his bunk, leaning back against it. Mikkel had been nearly done preparing dinner when he’d walked by; he should go back out soon to get some. But he let his head fall back onto the mattress instead, a groan escaping him as the muscles in his neck stretched.

A ghostly touch passed over his head and Emil spun around, his heart in his throat. Lalli was still lying where he had last left him, but there was a gleam of gray eyes looking at him from beneath those nearly-shuttered eyelids.

“ _Lalli...”_ he breathed. As soon as he had woken that morning, he had begun to doubt whether it could have been real: the time he had spent talking with Lalli upon that quiet lake. Lalli had reassured him there that he would be fine, that he would wake up, but of course that was exactly what Emil would want to hear in a dream. This was real, though.

The eyes slid shut again, but Lalli’s pale lips curved slightly instead. They parted slowly, stubborn and dry, then Lalli said in a voice as a thin as a spider web, “ _Hej._ ”

Emil knelt beside the bed, bending over to rest his forehead on the limp hand that had fallen back to the mattress. He gave it a soft kiss, and was delighted when Lalli turned the hand over to stroke his cheek. “ _Hej_ ,” Emil whispered back.

Lalli murmured something in Finnish and Emil didn’t understand a word of it, but he thought he recognized the tone. It was universal. _I told you so._

“Yes, Lalli. You did wake up, just like you told me you would. You were right. You’re always right.” He laughed as he watched Lalli’s lips twitch into something like a tired smirk. “You’re perfect, even when you’re not.” His voice dropped lower as he leaned further over the bed, whispering into Lalli’s unwashed hair, “You’re perfect for me.”

Dinner was waiting for him outside, but it could wait until it solidified back into candle wax for all he cared. Emil had everything he could want right here and he wasn’t letting it go again.


	22. Final Lesson

**Final Lesson**

The door swung open, and Emil’s head swiveled to stare out into the hall in alarm. Then he winced. He was sitting on the bedroom floor, a cousin on each side plaiting his hair into knotted ropes that were probably supposed to be braids. The third was sitting in his lap with a book, her finger moving across the lines of text as he helped her with the words she didn’t know. She elbowed him to get his attention back onto the page.

Lalli slipped across the room as silently as he had come up the stairs—he was just as quiet in old Swedish houses as he had been in the woods of Denmark. He folded to the floor behind Emil and curled up against his back, his face smooshed against the Swede’s soft black shirt.

The three younger Vasterstroms didn’t find this worth commenting on. They had quickly grown accustomed to Cousin Emil’s odd friend being around and it didn’t seem all that remarkable to them if he chose to drape himself all over Emil—perhaps because they did the same thing themselves. They _had_ tried to protest when their favorite cousin forbad them from climbing all over Lalli in turn, but Emil had put his foot down. He knew Lalli’s limits and he didn’t want Lalli to hate his family. Or to blast them into the next town in a fit of magical rage.

“How was Swedish class?” he asked, trying not to turn his head. He was likely to lose another chunk of hair if he did.

“Too much Reynir,” Lalli grumbled back against his shoulder. They had been back in Mora for nearly two weeks, and Lalli and Reynir had both been stuck in intensive Swedish lessons since the second day. At first the plan had been to simply have Siv help tutor them, but once she saw the research that Mikkel had brought back, she dropped them like a hot coal and went straight back to her previous lab to demand a much-better job in return for handing over what they’d found.

Torbjörn was taking the books they’d salvaged thus far to potential buyers, with Mikkel there to advise him on the content of the Danish texts and their likely value. Sigrun tagged along with them most days because being cooped up in the house “made her spleen itch” according to her—whatever that meant. Tuuri had gone with that group for a few days, then accompanied Trond back to Öresund base to help oversee the repairs and improvements being made to the tank. Onni was still staying in Emil's uncle’s house as well, but he allowed them this brief respite every afternoon when Lalli first returned—before dragging the younger mage off for special training.

“All right, you little monsters,” Emil said to his cousins in a mock-serious voice. “While you all were devouring lunch, I hid five chocolates somewhere on the ground floor. Whoever finds one, gets to eat it. I wonder who will find the most?”

He hadn’t even finished the question before the three children were thumping down the stairs in a chocolate-crazed pack. Emil stood and grabbed a chair from the small study desk against one wall, wedging it under the door knob. Then he turned and grabbed Lalli, lifting him to his feet and practically throwing him down on the bed to fall on top of him. The mattress bounced beneath them and he thanked the gods (which he grudgingly accepted now) for the comforts of civilization.

“We have to clean,” Lalli pointed out, immediately seeing the flaw in Emil’s plan.

“Yes,” Emil agreed and elaborated for him, “We surely will have to clean up after them. They will destroy the entire house looking for those chocolates. Especially because I told them there were five, but I only hid four.” He grinned down at Lalli. “But it should buy us at least fifteen minutes of peace.”

They made good use of the time and no one interrupted them for a blessed twenty minutes, in fact. Reynir also knew better than to try entering the room right after he and Lalli returned from their exhaustive lessons, which lasted from ten in the morning until four in the afternoon. He and Mikkel—who were both sharing one the children’s rooms with Emil and Lalli during their brief return to Sweden—had quickly learned that if the door was shut, they should knock and wait until they were told it was all clear before entering.

So Reynir stayed downstairs and served as interim babysitter, testing out his halting Swedish sentences. Containing the children was Emil’s job the rest of the day, since his aunt and uncle still hadn’t managed to find another babysitter in all of Mora willing to watch their hellions. But for however long he could steal away with Lalli each afternoon, the task fell onto Reynir’s helpless shoulders.

When the door downstairs opened and Emil’s uncle walked into his semi-destroyed house with a shout of dismay, their time was up. Emil looked down at Lalli’s quiet face, smoothing both hands over his flyaway hair. “I guess it’s time we go help with the clean up. Onni’s probably expecting you for training, too.”

Lalli didn’t open his eyes as he lay stretched out beneath Emil on the bed. “When do we exit Sweden?” he asked grumpily.

Emil tweaked his nose and corrected him: “When do we _leave_ Sweden.”

Lalli shoved him over and stood with a glare. “I _leave_ now.” Emil laughed and grabbed him, pulling him back. Lalli let him, which was how Emil knew that he wasn’t really mad. He had become quite the expert in the silent language of Lalli’s reactions. He might even be more fluent in them than Lalli was in Swedish so far.

“We leave Thursday. Then you can escape back into the woods and be alone all day and leave me to pine after you while I defend the tank through my tears.” He punctuated each ‘and’ with a kiss on Lalli’s nose. He knew that some of what he’d said would be too hard for Lalli to understand and thus likely to cause more annoyance, but he’d found that kisses helped with that, too.

“And you will please not use yourself as a ghost bomb and make me worry about you, because I will lose all of my hair from stress if you keep doing that.” Lalli seemed mollified by the reassurance, though he was still holding himself stiffly in the circle of Emil’s arms. “And I can’t lose my hair, Lalli. I love it almost as much as I love you.”

And Lalli finally laughed, snorting to himself as he ducked his head down. He never laughed wholeheartedly, throwing his face back the way a person like Sigrun might. His amusement was a small, private thing, contained and hidden away from unwelcome eyes. But he was learning to laugh in front of Emil, and Emil was perfectly willing to make a fool of himself if it won him even one more of those rare smiles. He leaned in, his cheek brushing Lalli’s as the Finn shook with suppressed laughter and they held each other close.

 

 

The repairs to the Öresund bridge were still only just beginning, so the tank returned to the Silent World the same way it had left it: in the hull of an ancient tanker. The crew was let off in Nyborg by the wary sailors, who pulled out of port as fast as their screw could take them.

The tank’s engine had been tuned up, the hold emptied of books, and they’d even gotten a second side mirror. With the profits they were already turning on the books from their first jaunt, the crew had been outfitted with an extra uniform each—for those times when they were positively covered in contamination—and a healthy supply of decent foodstuffs. Which was good, since foraging was going to become harder and harder now that true winter was settling in.

Tuuri stood waving cheerily to the ship as it pulled away, and Reynir looked about with a mix of excitement and trepidation. He had certainly gotten his wish to visit distant lands. The crew had offered to arrange for his return to Iceland, but he hadn’t even needed to consider before refusing. He had a new teacher for magic stuff, and he could continue meeting with her in his dreams. There were still three more months before the spring thaws should begin, and he was sure he could be a real help to the crew this time—and come back with stories even his older brothers and sisters wouldn’t believe. This was his adventure now, too.

Sigrun was stretching her arms over her head, breathing deep of the fresh, probably troll-infested air with a huge grin plastered over her face. Mikkel had already stepped into the tank to make sure that none of his careful organization had been ruined by the jarring transfer of the tank from ship to land. And Lalli was pulling his scout’s hood up as Emil nudged him with a shoulder, flashing him a warm grin. Lalli gave back a small, knowing smile, the type he reserved only for Emil out of all the crew. Then the light mage ran off ahead of the tank, slipping back into the unexplored wilds that awaited them to find whatever would come next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh no, it’s over! But nearly 80,000 words is probably enough for something that started as a few random scenes. Thanks for tagging along with me on this impromptu journey, friends. I’d had no intention of doing this—it’s my first foray into fanfic in years and years. But it’s been fun! And maybe more will come... Emil and Lalli are just so much fun, after all.
> 
> So, hey, music! Everyone likes music, right? Listening to way too much old recordings of Elliot Smith this week, mostly because two songs completely struck me when writing for Emilalli. Check 'em out. The angsty fics practically write themselves!
> 
> Lalli's Anthem: [Waltz #2 (XO)](https://youtu.be/tDaOlJIMgpw)  
> “Tell Mr. Man with impossible plans to just leave me alone / In the place where I make no mistakes / In the place where I have what it takes.”
> 
> Emil’s Anthem: [Come to me](https://youtu.be/TZ8xEcmNZhs)  
> “I'm not used to coming through / More accustomed to a falling out / Trying hard now as I can for you / Not to trip up on some stupid doubt.”
> 
> Cheers!


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